


And Everything In Between

by mandzilkos



Series: In This World So Cruel, I Think You're So Cool [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Juventus Turin, M/M, main ship is dybata other ships are brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 48
Words: 250,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alvaro gently nudged his elbow. When he turned around, Alvaro mustered a smile.</p><p>“We okay?” Alvaro asked.</p><p>And Paulo’s hair was covering his forehead but if it hadn’t been, Alvaro was sure he would’ve seen the frown lines on Paulo’s forehead dissipate. He looked as relieved as Alvaro felt. And Alvaro was thankful once again that he didn’t need to spell everything out in order for Paulo to understand him.</p><p>“Of course,” Paulo said. A genuine smile washed over his face as he gave Alvaro’s arm a brief squeeze. “Always.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Me is back, back again, tell a friend. I'm back to break your hearts all over again hahahahhaa this time the agony lasts longer! For thirty whole chapters! Hopefully. I'll update the length as I go along!
> 
> I completely turned my writing around for this fic and I hope you guys will like it! I enjoyed writing this (so far) and I hope you will enjoy it too. It spans quite a few years (six to be exact) so I have tried not to make it so draggy haha but! Do feel free to tell me what you think as we go along :)
> 
> Oh also, I will be cross-posting this on my tumblr, incredybala. The chapter numbers will be one ahead over here because of the prologue.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

Alvaro sighed as he lifted the bag of balls over his shoulder and headed out to the training ground. He was the tallest of the group and they _always_ asked him to carry things.

Everyone was gathered around the coach when he arrived with the balls, gesturing for him to quickly join in because he was the latest. Alvaro rolled his eyes. If they wanted him to carry all the training gear then they just had to deal with it. Plus, he was already tired as hell from school.

So, Alvaro was a moody teenager.

He dumped the balls on the ground and trudged up to the crowd. Coach was holding a stack of papers in his hand and gesturing animatedly about what an honour this was and how he was going to make sure his boys did everything they could to make their guests feel welcome.

And then Alvaro recalled – the guests from Argentina. A group of footballing teens just like the very group Alvaro was in. Each of them were assigned one, and they were to play host for a month.

Coach’s speech didn’t tell anything new. Make sure the boys had a place to stay, that they knew how to get around, that they appeared at training with their host, and of course, that they felt welcome. Spain definitely wasn’t a cold place to be, in every sense of the word. Neither were the Spain youth teams.

Which was true, but Alvaro was a cold person to new people, so he didn’t really get how it was all going to work out.

At the end of training coach handed out the slips of paper with the information about the specific guest each boy was going to play host to. Alvaro grabbed his slip when his name was called, folded the paper, and stuffed it in his bag.

“Morata,” coach called as Alvaro tried to sneak out.

 _Busted_ , Alvaro thought as he turned around. It wasn’t even that he wanted to go out to play, or whatever. He just really wanted to go home and sleep. “Yes, coach?”

“Be nice to him, alright,” coach said. “You’ve got one of the best.”

Alvaro paused, surprised. “Uh. Yeah, okay.”

Dani crept up behind Alvaro as coach left. He tapped Alvaro on the shoulder. “Who’d you get?”

“Why do you care?” Alvaro asked.

“I wanna know who’s ‘one of the best,’” Dani said, forming air-quotes with his fingers.

Alvaro rolled his eyes teasingly and took the piece of paper back out. He unfolded it, took a peek, and put it back inside.

“Who is it?” Dani urged.

Alvaro shrugged, lifted his bag again, and walked out of the room, glancing over his shoulder at the curious Dani.

“Some guy named Paulo.”


	2. Hello There, The Angel From My Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that the chapter titles will be lyrics! They are not necessarily the ~soundtrack~ for the chapter, just lyrics that I think suit the premise. But nevertheless, I will indicate which song it's from! This one is from I Miss You by Blink-182.
> 
> Enjoy and thank you!

The bus containing the Spain Under-17s, though trailing behind the other buses containing the U-16s, 18s, 19s, and 20s, was definitely not trailing behind in the amount of chatter on the way to the airport to pick up their guests. Everyone was excited about what they were going to do for the next three weeks – it was standard, really, but still exciting for a group of teenage boys to meet other teenage boys from halfway across the world who happened to be as obsessed over football as they were.

To Alvaro’s credit, he tried to join in the chatter, even though he mostly stuck to his Real Madrid friends. But he wasn’t so much of a talker. His mom liked to say he was in a phase because teenagers found it cooler to be broody and quiet. Alvaro would scoff, because what did _she_ know about teenagers?

“Do I look okay?” Dani asked from next to him as they stood at the arrival hall. He was smoothening the front of his training shirt and looking so fucking _nervous_. If there hadn’t been a dress code, he probably would have been in one of his fancy plaid shirts, or whatever.

“Oh my God,” Alvaro said. “Chill. It’s just some boys.”

“Yeah, but like, they’re our new friends,” Dani countered. “I don’t wanna give a bad impression.”

“Jesus, okay,” Alvaro relented. “You look great. Stop touching yourself.”

“You nervous?” Dani asked. “You got one of the best.”

“Will you stop it with that?!” Alvaro exclaimed, flustered, as Dani laughed. Okay, so Alvaro was _kinda_ nervous, as he always was around new people. And especially after coach had told him he’d be getting one of the best Argentine guests. Which was fantastic, really, but Alvaro couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated.

There was a sudden commotion at the front where their coach was standing. Alvaro watched the group of boys in blue and white exit the arrival hall behind their coaches and whoever, and drifting over towards them. Dani went silent, his eyes darting around looking for someone.

“Who do you think he is?” he asked Alvaro.

“Yours or mine?”

Dani shot him a look. “Mine. But also yours, because I wanna know who’s the be–“

Alvaro elbowed him in the ribs before he could finish. He scanned the huge group of boys himself, wondering which one was – he looked down at his slip of paper – Paulo Dybala.

“Which one looks like a Paulo?”

Dani shot him another look.

“Fine,” Alvaro muttered. The both of them stood quietly as the Argentines slowly dispersed, finding their Spanish hosts and being led outside to the buses, smiling heartily. Alvaro found himself getting more nervous as the crowd became smaller. Maybe Paulo had ditched?

Then he saw this little Argentine boy with really straggly long brown hair approach his coach and hold up his own slip of white paper.

He saw the boy asking, “Morata?”

Alvaro reached to his side and accidentally smacked Dani in the chest. “That’s mine,” he said as Dani muttered an ‘ow.’

“Where?”

“Shh, he’s coming,” Alvaro said, like he hadn’t been the one teasing Dani earlier about being flustered and everything.

“Alvaro,” coach called as he approached. He gently nudged the Argentine boy in front of him. He seemed a little shy. “This is Paulo. Paulo, this is Alvaro. You two have fun.”

“Hi,” Alvaro said hesitantly. Paulo was so _small_. Like, he was even smaller up close. Alvaro briefly thought about sticking out a hand for a handshake but then decided not to. Instead, he reached over and took one of Paulo’s bags. “Let me help you.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said softly.

Then Dani’s guest came, and Alvaro gave them a little wave before he headed out to the bus with Paulo by his side.

\------

After some icebreakers and a tour of the training ground the boys were going to use for the next three weeks, everyone was sent home with their guests.

Alvaro and Paulo stood on the kerb waiting for Alvaro’s mom. Paulo looked so tiny with all his bags surrounding him or strapped over his shoulders, so Alvaro took a couple of them and strapped them over himself.

“You’re very quiet,” he noted.

“I’m tired,” Paulo said. He showed Alvaro his watch. “It’s 8.30 in the morning in Argentina.”

“You can take a nap in your new room,” Alvaro suggested.

Paulo smiled. “Thanks.”

It was horrifying when Alvaro’s mom arrived. She fussed over Paulo like he was her own son. Alvaro glared at the back of her head as he sat in the backseat next to Paulo. She couldn’t _stop talking_. And to Paulo’s credit, he was listening to her every word and responding politely. He even nudged Alvaro and mouthed ‘it’s okay,’ when he caught Alvaro glaring.

Alvaro heaved a sigh when she was finally done flitting around Paulo’s room. He shut the door behind her and turned to Paulo. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Paulo said. “My mom’s like that too.”

Alvaro smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. He looked down at his lap. “Uh. Thanks. For being my host.”

“I kinda didn’t have a choice, did I?” Alvaro laughed – but stopped when Paulo’s gaze snapped back up, horrified. “Oh, God. I’m kidding. It’s nice to have you here. Please don’t be mad.”

And much to his relief, Paulo burst into laughter. “Okay, if you say so.”

And then there was this weird silence, but Paulo was smiling, so Alvaro was relieved because he wasn’t mad or anything.

“Uh,” Alvaro finally said lamely. “I’ll…let you take your nap, I guess. Talk to you later.”

Paulo didn’t say anything else, just sat there on the edge of his bed staring at Alvaro as he walked to the door. But as Alvaro was about to shut it and leave, Paulo suddenly called, “Alvaro.”

Alvaro pushed the door open again. “Yeah?”

“Will you…talk to me?” Paulo asked, waving his hand awkwardly towards the empty space in front of him. “I mean…if I go to sleep now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. And then my body clock will always be Argentine.”

“Oh,” Alvaro stepped into the room again and closed the door behind him. “Yeah, okay.”

Then there was another weird silence as Alvaro sat on the edge of the bed in front of Paulo.

“So,” it was Paulo’s turn to break the silence by clearing his throat. “Which club do you play for?”

And Alvaro was glad, because that meant he didn’t read the info sheet. Just like how Alvaro hadn’t, save for Paulo’s name. So he didn’t have to feel guilty about that.

“Real Madrid Youth,” Alvaro said. “Next year I’ll be eligible for Castilla. I hope.”

“You will,” Paulo said. “Uh, so that makes you…seventeen?”

“In October, yeah.”

“Cool,” Paulo said. “I’ll be sixteen. In November.”

“Which club do you play for?”

“It’s complicated. But for now, Instituto de Córdoba.”

“Why is it complicated?” Alvaro asked, and then immediately regretted it. See, this was exactly why he didn’t like talking. When he talked, he screwed everything up. “I mean –“

“No, it’s okay,” Paulo said. “I’m from Laguna Larga. I went back to their club earlier from Instituto but then I returned after a few months and now I’m staying in their club hostel.”

“Oh,” Alvaro said. He briefly considered asking more questions because he was so curious but God, he didn’t want to scare the poor boy away on his first day. But it turned out he didn’t have to worry about that at all, because Paulo just continued, like he knew exactly what Alvaro was thinking.

“I went back because my dad was sick. I wanted to be with my family. But after everything I realised I had to be a man, you know, if I wanted to get my footballing life started. So I moved out.”

“I hope your dad’s okay now.”

“He passed away. He’s always wanted one of his sons to be a footballer. So here I am.”

 _God, Morata,_ Alvaro smacked himself internally. Maybe if he didn’t say a word for the rest of his life then everything would be okay.

“Anyway,” Paulo said abruptly, standing up. He walked over to his bags and dragged them to the closet. “I should unpack.”

“I’ll help you,” Alvaro said, and joined Paulo before he could stop him.

And as he approached the closet he saw Paulo blink away his tears.

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned Paulo around. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked so many questions.”

Paulo shook his head. “It’s okay, just…I really miss him. This entire year, it’s been so hard.”

“I’m sure he was a great man,” Alvaro told him. The wound was fresh and he could understand why Paulo was so upset. “And I’m sure you’ll fulfil his dream and become a super great footballer.”

“Yeah?” Paulo finally smiled.

“Of course,” Alvaro unzipped one of Paulo’s bags and began to hang his clothes on the hangers. “You can talk to me about him, if you want.”

And Paulo did. He told Alvaro everything about how his dad drove him to all his trainings, every single one, and sat through all his matches. He talked about how his dad would point out every single mistake he made, even if he’d scored two or three goals. He talked about how his brothers were also trying to be footballers but Paulo was the one who seemed to have come the furthest although he was the youngest. He talked about the battle his family and his dad fought against his cancer, and how they never actually told him how bad it all was, just bits and pieces, until his father passed away. He talked about how knowing it was coming and being prepared for it were two completely different things.

But he also talked about how he was more determined than ever to succeed, because now his dad wasn’t just watching his matches, but watching his every move, and Paulo’s biggest dream was to make his dad’s come true.

When he’d finally let everything out and was less upset, he told Alvaro about his family and how he was part Polish and Italian. And how he wasn’t exactly part of any national team just yet. Which made it even more miraculous that he was in Spain right then, because one of his friends had dropped out at the last minute and Paulo had been chosen to replace him.

“I was really happy when I got selected for this,” Paulo confessed.

“You know what,” Alvaro replied as he folded a pair of Paulo’s shorts. “I’m really happy I got you.”

“You are?” Paulo asked.

“I think you’re a great guy,” he punched Paulo’s shoulder. “Thanks for, you know. Telling me about your dad.”

Paulo shrugged. “I feel like he’s part of me. Like, if you don’t know about him, then you don’t know about me.”

“I’m sure he’ll be very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Alvaro.”

“Thank _you_ for trusting me.”

“Oh my God, are we going to be this polite for the next three weeks?” Paulo asked. “I’m not going to be able to take it.”

“Oh, you want me to be rude, that’s how you want to play it?” Alvaro stood up and dumped all of Paulo’s remaining clothes on him as he laughed. “Come on, it’s six. Time for dinner.”

Then he darted out of the room, leaving Paulo to rush after him, still laughing. The both of them ignored Alvaro’s mom’s judgemental stare as they both chose the same chair at the table and Alvaro ended up getting outmuscled by Paulo. Which he would normally have been embarrassed about, but not that day – because on that day he intentionally let Paulo have his seat.

Alvaro sat and watched proudly as Paulo’s face became a few shades brighter when Alvaro’s dad joined them for dinner. He watched and listened as Paulo told them everything about Argentina and about his two brothers. He saw Paulo’s eyes turn dreamy whenever Alvaro’s father spoke. And he saw Paulo smile sheepishly when Alvaro’s mom and dad wrapped him in a hug after he thanked them for their hospitality.

He really liked this guy.

“Thanks for today,” Paulo said as the both of them were headed up to their own rooms.

“Are you going to say that every day for the next three weeks? Because I’m not going to be able to take it,” Alvaro teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Paulo laughed.

“But you’re very welcome,” Alvaro pat him gently on the shoulder. “I can’t wait to train with you.”

Paulo flashed him a grin. “Yeah.”

They both went to their own doors and stood in front of them, like they didn’t know how to properly end the conversation. Alvaro, awkward as always, decided that it would be best to just open his door and disappear into his room, so he attempted just that.

“Hey,” Paulo called before he could close the door. He stuck his head out again and saw Paulo doing the same. “Thanks for letting me talk to you about my dad. It hasn’t been easy, you know, not being able to talk about it. Because my family were in as much pain as me and none of my friends would understand how great a man my dad was because they always saw him scolding me.”

Alvaro smiled. “He only scolded you because he cared.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said again, smiling, relieved and touched that Alvaro understood. “Good night, Alvaro.”

“Good night,” Alvaro said, both their doors clicking shut at the same time.

Alvaro actually finally understood why Dani was excited. Talking to Paulo, hanging out with him, it was so fun. Here was someone from a completely different background from him, with a different family and a different type of support, but with the exact same dream. He couldn’t think of a better friend to have.

He briefly thought of going over to Paulo and talking to him again, like two boys at a sleepover. But then he remembered Paulo had had a napless afternoon and he’d probably been awake for like, twenty-four hours straight if he hadn’t slept on his flight. He was probably already asleep.

So Alvaro dug out his laptop and very belatedly made plans to take Paulo all around Madrid in all the free time they had in between trainings and meetings and immersion lessons or whatever. He wanted Paulo to feel welcome. It was better late than never.

Alvaro went to bed feeling more accomplished than ever, his mind running thoughts of how much fun he was going to have with Paulo, the shy little Argentine boy with the most determined eyes and the most pleasant character. And the most questionable hairstyle, but who was Alvaro to judge? He could barely take care of that bush on his own head.


	3. If You Never Try You'll Never Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Fix You by Coldplay.

When Alvaro was chosen as the captain for training, the first person he picked for his team was Paulo.

Okay, so it was kinda an obvious choice. But Alvaro could have just as easily chosen Dani, or Isco, or whoever. And he eventually did choose them, along with their partners. But he wanted Paulo because he just knew Paulo could do some magic with his feet.

And man, he couldn’t possibly have been more right.

The good thing about Paulo being so tiny was that he could literally weave his way through _anybody_. If anyone was unlucky enough to blink at the wrong time they’d find Paulo already behind them. The teams rotated every ten minutes, and whenever he wasn’t on the field with Paulo, Alvaro found himself tracking his every move.

At the end of the two-hour session, Alvaro had assisted two of Paulo’s three goals. And Paulo had assisted all four of his.

Paulo skipped up to him as everyone was heading to the showers. “Hey, thanks for picking me.”

“God, Paulo, are you going to thank me every time I do something remotely nice?”

“I wasn’t intending to,” Paulo said. “But you’re just so…nice.”

“I wasn’t being nice. I just really, really think you’re a great player.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Tha–“ he started to say, but stopped when Alvaro gave him a mock glare.

“Come on,” Alvaro reached over and slid Paulo’s sweaty headband off his hair, letting it hang in wet clumps framing his face. He threw the headband over towards Paulo’s bench and wrapped his arm around Paulo’s neck. “Let’s go shower.”

“Great job today,” Paulo said from under Alvaro’s arm.

Alvaro grinned, each of his four goals replaying in his mind. And then after that, each of Paulo’s three goals. “You, too,” he replied, and caught Paulo’s proud smile as they both stepped into separate showers.

\------

Paulo spent most of that afternoon cooped up in his room. He felt strange walking around the house by himself, like he was snooping on Alvaro’s family. Which absolutely wasn’t his intention.

At four-thirty, his phone chimed with the alert ‘Call Mom,’ and he was so overjoyed he almost fell off the bed as he jumped out of it to get his laptop. Sitting around all afternoon could do that to a person.

A burst of relief washed across Paulo’s entire being as his mom’s face appeared in the Skype window. Though he had been really excited about being on this exchange, a part of him hated that he had to be halfway across the world from his family.

“Hola mama,” he said, and his mom was smiling, smiling with _pride_ , and it’d been ages since he saw his mom smile like that and he felt like he was going to cry.

“How are you?” she asked. Paulo had been supposed to call her the previous night but he’d fallen right asleep. “Is everything okay? Is the family nice?”

And Paulo was so _happy_ and he felt like he could talk for _ages_ about Alvaro’s family even though he’d only known them for one day. He spent the next hour telling his mom everything that happened and all the places Alvaro told him about and how they were going to visit all of them. Paulo didn’t get to go out of his hometown much. He was glad he had the opportunity and he was glad he had Alvaro to share it with.

Paulo was a little reluctant to hang up when the time came around for his mom to go for lunch. He half-wished that they could just spend the day talking; he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He’d been fine the last few months living in the Instituto hostel. Being across the Atlantic just made him miss his family so much more.

“Wait,” he said before his mom could hang up. In a rush of impulse he grabbed his laptop and stood up. “I want you to meet someone.”

He went next door and knocked on Alvaro’s door, pushing it open the moment he heard Alvaro reply. He only realised a split-second later that Alvaro might have said not to go in.

Fortunately, Alvaro wasn’t naked or whatever. He was just sitting on his bed with his laptop. “Yeah?” he asked as Paulo stepped into the room.

Paulo went over and put the laptop down in front of Alvaro, nudging him a little so he had space to sit down. “Mom, this is Alvaro,” he said. “Alvaro, my mom.”

And his mom was giving Alvaro a pixelated wave and Alvaro looked so surprised, and Paulo briefly felt guilty for springing this surprise on him like that. But only briefly. Because he was also so amused at how Alvaro looked like a deer in the headlights.

Then Alvaro raised a hand and started to wave back, and Paulo said, to his mom, “Alvaro’s great. He’ll take care of me. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

Alvaro nodded at that statement. “I’ll make sure he’s fed well and he sleeps well and trains well.”

“And we’ll go exploring?” Paulo added.

“Yeah,” Alvaro turned and smiled the most hopeful smile Paulo had ever seen on anyone’s face. “We’ll go exploring.”

His mom said some usual mom stuff to Alvaro – you know, take care of her son, she’s glad Paulo has so many nice things to say about Alvaro, the likes – before she had to leave. It was lunchtime in Córdoba and dinnertime in Madrid.

“Sorry for barging in on you,” Paulo said. “I just really wanted my mom to meet you.”

“It’s okay, I’m honoured,” Alvaro grinned.

“Should we go down for dinner?” Paulo asked. It was a little past six and it was only Paulo’s second day there so he didn’t actually know what dinnertime was.

Alvaro gave that a little thought before his expression lit up with some excitement. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s go out for dinner.”

“Like…” Paulo gestured to the empty space next to him. “Me and your family?”

“No, you and me,” Alvaro replied. “I’ll take you to this place I go to sometimes with my teammates. It’s a small diner and not many people know about it but man. It serves the best food.”

“Oh, okay,” Paulo smiled. “But what about your mom’s cooking?”

“Nah, she doesn’t mind,” Alvaro stood up and ruffled Paulo’s lion-like hair. “Come on.”

So Paulo got himself into some jeans and followed Alvaro downstairs, where he witnessed him sweetly talking his mother into cooking less food and letting them go out for dinner. He even tried very unconvincingly to suggest that it was Paulo’s idea, but his mom wasn’t having any of that and his sister Marta just laughed in his face.

But after all the teasing she eventually let Alvaro go, and Alvaro grabbed Paulo and dragged him out the front door before she could change her mind.

They walked in comfortable silence down the street until Paulo asked, “Just us two?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro turned to him curiously. “Would you like to call anyone else?”

“Nah,” Paulo smiled at the ground. He was actually really beginning to enjoy the company of this outwardly quiet, inwardly playful boy who mumbled rather than spoke, and had the least crisp voice Paulo had ever heard, like he was only just learning to speak. “Just us two is fine.”

Alvaro led him down an inconspicuous side street, where there was a small diner with just one window and like, two customers. Alvaro pushed the door open and waved to the server at the counter. It was quiet except for the vague sound of dishes clinking together. It looked like one of those old American diners, but cosier. Paulo briefly wondered how they survived with what little business they looked like they had.

“I think the Real and Atletico players make up most of their business,” Alvaro answered his unasked question.

“It looks like a nice place,” Paulo noted.

“Wait till you taste their food,” Alvaro said excitedly. He led Paulo to a booth and waved two fingers at the server, who seemed to immediately know what he meant.

And then there was silence again as they sat opposite each other, hands on the table playing with their own fingers, not knowing what to do or say. Paulo didn’t like being this awkward. It wasn’t that he was trying to impress Alvaro, or whatever – or okay, maybe he _was_ , a little, but on top of that Paulo knew one day he had to get out of his shell.

But what made him feel just that little bit more comfortable was the fact that Alvaro seemed to feel the same way. Alvaro wasn’t one of those loud, outspoken teens who never failed to point out what Paulo was doing wrong. He wasn’t one of those to openly judge someone while that someone was struggling. If Alvaro had been more outspoken Paulo would have felt more uncomfortable, trying to live up to the life Alvaro brought to every conversation; but Alvaro wasn’t. He was quiet and instead of trying to balance out Paulo’s quietness, he joined in.

And it was even nicer because even though they didn’t talk they seemed to understand each other perfectly well.

The clanging of forks and spoons brought them both back to reality as the server appeared next to them with two servings of seafood paella. Alvaro gazed eagerly over towards Paulo as Paulo picked up his utensils hesitantly, not sure what to do under Alvaro’s heady stare.

“Try it,” Alvaro said, digging the ends of his fork and spoon into the table. His eyes were wide and excited, like he was more concerned over whether Paulo would like the dish than he was over his turning cold.

Paulo took a spoonful, blew on it gently, and put it in his mouth – and _okay_ , it was like, the best rice he’d ever tasted. He nodded at Alvaro, who immediately had this extremely satisfied look wash over his face, like he was actually proud of this achievement.

They ate in silence except for occasional contented moans accidentally slipping out of their rice-filled mouths. When they were both done Alvaro leaned back and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand even though there was a paper napkin right there in front of him.

“It’s really good,” Paulo said, and Alvaro smiled.

“This place is like, a post-match treasure cove.”

“Thanks for taking me here.”

“Stop it now,” Alvaro laughed. He slapped a bill on the table and, before Paulo could respond, grabbed Paulo’s arm and took him outside. “Let’s go, the city is nice when it’s dark.”

So they walked down the street and Paulo listened attentively as Alvaro pointed out every little thing of note. Like the shortcut to the training centre. And the little patch of grass he used to kick his ball in. He listened to Alvaro talk about how much he liked math but he liked football more so he wasn’t going to continue.

For that hour or so he felt like he saw the world in Alvaro’s eyes and he was surprised at how similar it was to the world in his own eyes.

“Sorry, I don’t usually talk so much,” Alvaro said sheepishly as they walked up his front driveway.

Paulo shook his head. “I talked a lot yesterday.”

“This feels like a date or something,” Alvaro mused. He stopped outside the front door. “Do you want a goodnight kiss?”

“You shut your damn mouth,” Paulo burst into laughter as Alvaro unlocked the door. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“You’re the girl in this date, obviously,” Alvaro said. He nudged Paulo aside as Paulo attempted to smack him on the shoulder, earning himself a head start up the stairs. “Dibs on the bathroom!”

“Alvaro, don’t be rude to our guest!” Alvaro’s mom yelled as he charged up the stairs behind Alvaro.

But Paulo didn’t mind a single bit. In fact, he was used to it – he had two brothers, after all.

But now he felt like he had three.

And Alvaro was well on his way to becoming Paulo’s favourite brother.

\------

Alvaro couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed for what seemed like hours but when he checked the clock, had only been minutes.

It was eleven pm. Alvaro got out of bed and dragged his feet next door to Paulo’s room, hesitating outside because he wasn’t sure if Paulo was already sleeping. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but then changed his mind and walked back towards his room. And then changed his mind again because he was bored to death.

A dim light lit up the crack under Paulo’s door as Alvaro stood outside. He raised a hand again but before he could do anything, he heard Paulo say softly, “Come in, loser.”

Alvaro opened the door gratefully to the sight of Paulo half-seated up in bed under his sheets, the light on his bedside table turned on. He sat up and patted the space next to him. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t sleep,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah?” Paulo said. He looked relieved. “Me neither.”

“So you just called me in?” Alvaro asked. “What if it wasn’t me but like, a burglar or something?”

Paulo went silent, his wary green eyes boring a hole in Alvaro as a look of horror replaced the relief.

“I’m kidding,” Alvaro said quickly. “God, Paulo!”

“You started it,” Paulo grumbled.

“Why can’t you sleep?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shrugged. “I guessed I’m still tuned to the Argentina time zone.”

“Yeah, well,” Alvaro sighed, slipping himself under Paulo’s sheets because they were warm. “I’m not tuned to the Argentina time zone and I can’t sleep. It sucks more.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“Just talk, I guess.”

“You haven’t talked enough?”

Alvaro turned and stared at Paulo, who burst into laughter – soft laughter, so he wouldn’t wake anybody.

“Kidding. God, Alvaro!” he said, in a tone that sounded suspiciously like Alvaro’s.

Alvaro brushed off the tease with a roll of his eyes. “Hey,” he said, grabbing Paulo’s laptop from the table. “Have you ever googled yourself?”

“Why would I _do_ that?” Paulo asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, for fun,” Alvaro opened the laptop. “Wait, can I turn this on? Like, there isn’t porn or anything that you don’t want me to see, right?”

“Fuck off,” Paulo said, grabbing the laptop and opening the browser. He typed in ‘Alvaro Morata’ in the search bar. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to curse.”

“Please, mom isn’t even here,” Alvaro peeked over at the screen as they both settled on their bellies along the bed, their feet on the pillows. “Google _yourself_.”

“There are so many good things about you,” Paulo said in awe, his eyes flashing as the webpages he was scrolling down reflected in them. “Wow. I should have done this earlier.”

“Come on, stop it,” Alvaro said, a little embarrassed. He didn’t like talking about the hype surrounding him. It just made him worry about whether he could live up to it. “Let’s google you.”

He reached over to the laptop only to have Paulo smack his hands aside like a little angry kitten. So he stood up with a huff and retrieved his own laptop from his room, entering ‘Paulo Dybala’ into the search bar.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” he said, impressed. There weren’t many things about Paulo but the things Alvaro could find were pretty good.

Paulo gave a little unimpressed grunt, himself engrossed in stalking Alvaro while he was literally lying next to him. Alvaro settled in comfortably, scrolling down page after page of Spanish google results and reading everything there possibly was to read about fifteen-year-old Paulo. Which was nothing more than he already knew. Honestly, it was even _less_ than what he knew. Because Paulo was as good a person as he was a footballer.

“Well, that was fun,” Paulo said when he was finally done. “Thanks for suggesting that I stalk you.”

“Wait, I wasn’t trying to be a snob or anything,” Alvaro started. “I mean, I’ve never googled myself so I don’t know everything they’re saying about me.”

“Yeah, I know, don’t worry,” Paulo smiled. “You’re a great friend.”

“We’ve only been friends for two days,” Alvaro said. Even though he wanted to say the same thing back to Paulo. But he didn’t want to come across as a cheesy idiot.

And Paulo’s smile grew like he just _knew_ Alvaro was trying to look tough. It was beginning to get a little creepy, how this little lionhead knew so much about what Alvaro was thinking.

“You’re like my new brother,” he confessed to Alvaro.

“Aww,” Alvaro laughed. And it was strange again, because that was exactly how he felt. “You, too. You know, I’ve always wanted a brother. But I only have a big sister. Yeah, she’s great and we’re close. But it’s just different from a brother, you know? I mean, you have two brothers. I’d kill to have _one_.”

“Well,” Paulo said. He shimmed over and closed the small gap in between them, pressing his shoulder against Alvaro’s. “Now you’ve got one.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. He couldn’t help himself. He felt like his cheeks were going to explode. “For a month?”

“For _at least_ a month,” Paulo corrected him.

Alvaro laughed, which rattled Paulo and made him laugh, too. Then Paulo closed his laptop and put it back on the table. The both of them were still tangled in the sheets despite being upside down on the bed, so Paulo rested his cheek on the mattress and closed his eyes.

“You sleepy yet?” he asked Alvaro.

“Not really.”

“Well, just,” Paulo yawned. “Just lie here until you fall asleep.”

So Alvaro did, in the dim light of the room he curled up next to Paulo and miraculously found himself falling asleep with the biggest smile still plastered on his face.


	4. You And Me Can Make It Anywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from One Call Away by Charlie Puth.

Alvaro and Paulo spent the next night googling Alvaro’s teammates and seniors. And the night after that googling Paulo’s.

They eventually appeared for training with bags under their half-closing eyes. After a training session filled with Paulo sending wayward passes and Alvaro aiming for everywhere except the goal, they were both individually called to meet their coaches.

Alvaro shuffled his feet around sheepishly as coach gave him one of those lectures about taking every opportunity given to him. And that he knew Alvaro could do better. All the usual things, really. Except at the end he added that he was glad Paulo and Alvaro were having such a great time together and he only hoped that they wouldn’t overdo it.

Alvaro glanced over and saw that Paulo was currently receiving the same treatment from the Argentine guy. He was drawing circles with the tip of his boots and nodding after every sentence. When coach was done Alvaro apologised and went over to where Paulo was standing.

The coach gave Alvaro a stern smile, patted Paulo on the shoulder, and then went on with his own business. Alvaro turned to Paulo.

“He hates me,” Alvaro said.

“He doesn’t,” Paulo assured him. “Just said we need to stop playing because it isn’t a one-month long vacation, it’s a training camp.”

They walked in silence to the locker room save for their boots clacking on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro finally said.

Paulo shook his head, and then there was silence again.

Well, until he said softly, “I’ve never been in trouble before.”

“Really?” Alvaro asked after a slight pause. He thought of all the times he’d gotten into a fight or failed a class or whatever. “Not even in school?”

Paulo shook his head again. “I’ve never been called out individually.”

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro repeated.

“No,” Paulo said shyly. “It’s actually…it actually feels kinda good.”

“Are you serious?” Alvaro asked in disbelief, and Paulo couldn’t contain himself any longer and burst into laughter. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo continued laughing. “First time for everything, you know? It feels exciting.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

Paulo punched him on the shoulder. “ _You’re_ fucking weird.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never gotten into trouble. I hate you.”

“Yeah, well,” Paulo sighed once he’d recollected himself. “Thanks for not teasing me for being a goody-two-shoes.”

“I’m sure judging you for being an inwardly wild child.”

“You know it,” Paulo laughed again. He jogged ahead of Alvaro and into the locker room, hurriedly collecting all his shower things. “Dibs on the shower!” he yelled as he tugged off his boots and socks and ran back out.

And Alvaro wanted to yell back that there were more than enough showers but when he got to the showers there was a line and Alvaro realised he’d forgotten to factor in all the Argentine players. He stood behind a very smug Paulo and poked him in the ribs.

“I like having a brother,” he told Paulo.

“Yeah?” Paulo replied. “You know I’m not going to give up my place in the line.”

“I wasn’t going for that,” Alvaro said. “But now that you mention it…”

“Nope,” Paulo said, and then smartly changed the topic. “Isn’t there anyone else you’re close to on your teams? That guy you were standing with at the airport, Dani? Or uh, Isco?”

 _Of course_ Paulo knew who they were. They’d spent like, three hours stalking them, after all. And Paulo was beginning to break out of his shell and talk to other people besides Alvaro or his Argentine friends. Which he had very little of, actually, because he wasn’t on the national team.

But Alvaro couldn’t explain why he didn’t feel the same towards them than he did towards Paulo. He was close to them, for sure, but in a way that was different from how close he was to Paulo. He felt this different sense of fondness towards Paulo. Like he had to protect Paulo like a little brother. He didn’t feel that way towards any of his other friends. He thought maybe it was because his task from the very beginning _was_ to take care of Paulo. Maybe that was it. It was already ingrained in his mind.

“Nah, they’re not like you,” was all he said. There were too many things to go into and the showers weren’t a place Alvaro was comfortable talking about his feelings at. He reached over and ruffled Paulo’s hair. “You’re different.”

Paulo seemed to accept that answer. He smiled proudly at Alvaro and leaned back on the tiled wall so he and Alvaro could spend the whole fifteen minutes of waiting time just standing on their sore feet and talking about nothing.

\------

The training camp included trips to Valencia and Barcelona. In the middle of the second week the boys travelled to Valencia.

“Is it always this hot here?” Paulo grumbled as he struggled with his luggage. The bag seemed larger than him, honestly.

Alvaro helped him grab his bag off the overhead rack of the train. “Nah, only when I’m around,” he said.

“Fuck off,” was Paulo’s reply. He teasingly snatched his bag from Alvaro and stormed ahead of him.

The schedule was simple: training and sightseeing on the first day, and a little friendly match on the second before flying back home. Alvaro and Paulo fell right into the routine, tugging on their training shirts together in their hotel room, not uttering a word, just moving around one another smoothly in the small space. Then they spent training together again, kicking the ball around, doing drills, challenging each other over who could complete the drills quicker, and eventually falling into a sweaty heap at the side of the pitch.

“Much better today,” Paulo’s coach said as he walked past them, and Alvaro was glad because it didn’t seem like he hated him anymore.

“Gonna have to separate you two one day,” Alvaro’s coach added as he trailed along behind.

“Oh, no,” Paulo said mockingly. “They’re gonna _separate us_.”

Alvaro stared at him. “What’s gotten into you? A rebellious streak?”

“You bring out the worst in me,” Paulo said. He stood up and grabbed Alvaro’s sweaty hand. “Come on. Dibs on the shower!”

Alvaro rolled his eyes. The training pitch was right next to the hotel so everybody was heading back for a shower before a city tour. And ever since he’d done that shower thing to Paulo, Paulo hadn’t stopped doing it back every opportunity he got.

He went into the bathroom to wash his face as Paulo was in the shower. Paulo didn’t notice until he poked his arm out to grab his towel and accidentally grabbed Alvaro’s arm instead.

“Fuck!” Paulo screamed. Like, _literally screamed_. His head appeared from behind the shower curtain, a thoroughly perplexed look on his face. It morphed into a mockingly angry expression when he saw that it was just Alvaro. “Why are you creeping on me while I’m in the shower?”

Alvaro burst into laughter at the myriad of emotions Paulo was feeling. “I wasn’t! I was washing my face.”

“Well, don’t peek,” Paulo said. He managed to get his towel and popped back in the shower to wrap himself up.

Alvaro caught a glimpse of his butt. Unintentionally, he thought. Okay, or maybe it was just a little bit intentional.

“Nice butt,” he said to Paulo as Paulo finally emerged from the bathroom, one towel around his waist and the other being used to violently rub his hair dry.

Paulo stared at him for a few moments, like he wasn’t sure if he heard correctly. Then he snapped back with the greatest comeback. “I’d tell your girlfriend about that, but sadly you don’t have one.”

“Low blow, Dybala,” Alvaro scoffed playfully as he went into the bathroom. He heard Paulo burst into delighted laughter. “Low blow.”

“Wait,” Paulo said. He scuttled after Alvaro and put his head around the bathroom door. “Do you?”

“Do you think I’d be hanging out with you every night if I had one?” Alvaro scoffed. “I don’t.”

Paulo ignored the insult. He gave Alvaro a proud, cheeky ‘I was right’ smile, and then disappeared to get dressed.

\------

Alvaro hadn’t been to Valencia before, so the sightseeing was as exciting for him as it was for the visitors. He got dibs on the shower when they came back, though, so he didn’t have to sit around waiting for Paulo and eventually fall asleep dirty and sweaty.

He thought Paulo would be asleep by the time he was done, but when he emerged from the shower he saw Paulo lying in bed flipping through a magazine. It didn’t look like one of those typical hotel magazines. It had like, a girl on the cover. A naked girl.

“Where’d you get that?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo jumped when he heard Alvaro’s voice, like he’d been caught doing something illegal. Okay, he _was_ doing something illegal. But man, did that boy not know how to smoke himself out of a situation.

“I, uh…” he stammered, not able to keep the magazine before Alvaro snatched it from him. He gave up and slid further under the sheets as if he was trying to hide from Alvaro. “It was in the drawer.”

“I guess someone left it behind,” Alvaro suggested. He held up the magazine after briefly flipping through it. “You like this kinda stuff?”

“Uh…” Paulo said again. “I don’t come across it often.”

Alvaro wasn’t going to be all confrontational towards Paulo for looking at that magazine – he liked naked ladies as much as the next teenager. Besides, Paulo was beginning to show his wild side and Alvaro was happy because he knew Paulo didn’t get to be a teenager back at home. He was responsible and serious and he pretty much needed a break from life. Which he was getting right then.

“Well,” Alvaro said. He threw the magazine back on Paulo’s chest. “I’ve seen enough butts and boobs for today. You can keep it.”

“You don’t have to keep complimenting my butt, you know,” Paulo said as he stood up and prepared for his shower. He looked kinda relieved, like he was glad Alvaro wasn’t rude or judgemental.

“Whatever, you know you like it,” Alvaro said from his bed, already settled in and flipping through the TV channels. “Hey, you sure you didn’t buy the mag yourself?”

“Fuck off, we were together the entire time.”

Of course Alvaro knew that; he just couldn’t pass off this opportunity to tease Paulo.

“You sure?” he called again as Paulo disappeared into the bathroom. “Hey, don’t do anything kinky in the shower!”

Paulo’s hand appeared around the bathroom door, his middle finger pointed upright at Alvaro.

Alvaro started laughing. Paulo’s reactions to literally anything were priceless and Alvaro couldn’t help but goad them out of him for amusement.

He reached over and grabbed the magazine from Paulo’s bed, turning off the TV in the process. He slid his hand under the waistbands of his shorts and underwear. Maybe he could get one in before Paulo got out of the shower.

\------

There was a little commotion as Paulo opened the bathroom door, but when he stepped out of the bathroom Alvaro was lying quietly in bed, facing the other way, like he’d fallen asleep.

But the magazine was on their shared bedside table instead of where it had been before Paulo went for his shower – on Paulo’s bed – and Paulo immediately _knew_ Alvaro had been flipping through it while he was in the shower. What an idiot, pretending to be disinterested.

“Good night,” he said loudly, on purpose, and he could barely contain his laughter when Alvaro jerked a little in bed. He obviously hadn’t been asleep. Paulo probably came out too early and Alvaro hadn’t finished. Maybe that was what the commotion had been about.

Alvaro didn’t reply. Paulo slid under his sheets, facing the ceiling but still having a view of Alvaro’s back from the side of his eye.

After about fifteen minutes of silence, Alvaro turned around and took a peek at Paulo. When he managed to wrongly convince himself that Paulo was asleep, he slid his hand into his pants and gave a soft sigh as he began to stroke himself.

And Paulo thought he’d have fun teasing Alvaro but right then things had gotten real so quickly and Paulo had no idea what to do.

Alvaro’s breaths became louder, more incoherent, and Paulo saw him stuff his other fist into his mouth to quiet himself. Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. He had to admit it was turning him on a little, the sounds Alvaro was making. It didn’t help that he’d looked at those naked ladies and been stupid enough not to jerk off in the shower.

Without any conscious effort Paulo found himself sliding his own hand down his pants. The relief he felt when he started rocked his body with a shudder which, together with the stifled moans of Alvaro, caused an involuntary gasp to escape from his mouth.

He saw and heard Alvaro freeze; and he froze, too, temporarily horrified at what he’d just been caught doing before remembering that he’d first caught _Alvaro_ doing it.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, sounding horrified.

Paulo hesitated. He didn’t know how to make this situation less awkward except to try and let Alvaro know that he didn’t mind, nor was he judging. They were both teenagers after all. And it wasn’t like Paulo didn’t have his hand on his dick.

So he reached over, picked up the magazine and one of the dirty towels lying on the ground, and flung them at Alvaro.

“Finish up,” he whispered back.

“Fuck,” was Alvaro’s reply. Paulo watched as he placed the towel over his lower body, flipped open the magazine to a random page, and started off again, his eyes so _dark_ and his face so desperate for pleasure. He gritted his teeth. “Don’t…don’t watch me.”

So Paulo turned back to face the ceiling and closed his eyes, and imagined all the naked boobs and butts and Alvaro jerking off to them. He grabbed the other towel on the ground and placed it over himself, his hand finding the right grip around his dick and starting again, up and down, slowly working up a rhythm that happened to follow that of Alvaro’s breaths.

The thrill of it, the excitement, it took Paulo by surprise. When he ran a finger over his slit a jolt of electricity shot through his body and Paulo had _never_ felt anything like it. But then again, he’d never masturbated with anyone else in the room.

It was unreal, like, some fifth dimension shit. Paulo was so absorbed in it that he had a huge shock and almost fell off the bed when Alvaro threw the magazine at him.

“You done?” Paulo asked weakly.

“Yeah, your turn,” Alvaro said, and his forehead was shining with sweat and he was lazily wiping his hand on the towel, and fuck, Paulo didn’t even _need_ the magazine. He shut his eyes again and successfully conjured all the mental images he wanted, and a few seconds later he came with a shout muffled by his own palm.

He’d never had an orgasm like _that_. But then again, he’d never had sex with someone else, just his hand. He lay there panting loudly but not embarrassed to be doing so because Alvaro was doing the same. What he was more concerned about was what was going to happen between them after _this_.

What made things worse was that when he opened his eyes, Alvaro was staring _right at him_.

“It’s your fault,” Paulo said.

“ _You_ found the magazine,” Alvaro retorted. “I thought I could finish before you were done showering.”

“Well, you need to work on your timing,” Paulo picked up the crumpled magazine and put it back on the table.

They lay in silence for a few minutes as their breaths settled. Paulo couldn’t help but wonder if this was a line they should never have crossed. Things had been going so well between them and Paulo didn’t want it to be ruined by some silly orgasm. Except the orgasm wasn’t silly. It was the best he’d ever had.

Thankfully, Alvaro put Paulo out of his misery by standing up and stretching casually like nothing had happened. Then he grabbed the towel and avoided Paulo’s gaze as he walked towards the bathroom.

“Dibs on the shower,” he said softly, a little shyly; but as warmly and fondly as he’d always said it.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro were separated for the friendly the next day. They both knew it was intentional because _somehow_ , _magically_ , they were both selected as captains.

And that was where Paulo’s competitive edge showed. He furrowed his brows as he tried to recall all the names of the Spanish players that he knew would be good for his team. Alvaro kinda regretted telling him everything about all his teammates because Paulo took Isco before Alvaro could get him. Isco gave Alvaro a disappointed frown as he joined the green bibs.

“He’s smart,” Dani muttered. Well, at least Alvaro had Dani.

“I taught him that,” Alvaro said.

Dani stared at him. “I’m not sure that argument is working in your favour, Morata.”

Paulo’s team ended up beating Alvaro’s team 3-1.

Paulo had this smug look on his face as they both headed upstairs to shower and pack. He didn’t even call dibs. Alvaro half-worried that things were going to get worse from there but his worries vanished when they were done packing and Paulo picked up the magazine and threw it so it landed in front of Alvaro’s suitcase.

“Wanna take this home?”

“Nah, plenty more on the internet,” Alvaro said.

“You would know,” Paulo said, and then burst into laughter.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” Alvaro couldn’t help but join in.

“Says the one who faked being not interested in the porn magazine and then tried to sneak in a stroke,” Paulo argued.

And okay, there was no counterargument to that. Alvaro punched him on the shoulder and then dragged his suitcase out of the room as Paulo followed, laughing loudly.

Paulo spent the bus ride to the train station talking animatedly to his friend in the seat in front, some guy from River Plate. Alvaro caught brief snippets about the time they’d spent together exploring Madrid. He spent the rest of the time wondering if there was a way he could ask Paulo if anything was going to change between them.

The train cabin was quiet as everyone took their seats, Paulo in the window seat and Alvaro on the aisle. A quick look around and Alvaro saw everyone else with their eyes closed, enjoying the hour of silence and rest. But Paulo was just staring out the window at the scenery flashing by, like he was deep in thought. Or like he missed his family. Or maybe both.

Alvaro gently nudged his elbow. When he turned around, Alvaro mustered a smile.

“We okay?” Alvaro asked.

And Paulo’s hair was covering his forehead but if it hadn’t been, Alvaro was sure he would’ve seen the frown lines on Paulo’s forehead dissipate. He looked as relieved as Alvaro felt. And Alvaro was thankful once again that he didn’t need to spell everything out in order for Paulo to understand him.

“Of course,” Paulo said. A genuine smile washed over his face as he gave Alvaro’s arm a brief squeeze. “Always.”


	5. I'm Falling For Your Eyes But They Don't Know Me Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran.

So there was no set _bedtime_ for Alvaro but the lights in the house always went off at around eleven.

And that was the time he’d sneak out of his room and into Paulo’s. By that time, Paulo would’ve finished his nightly call to his family. Alvaro even had his sleeping bag, a blanket, and a pillow stashed under Paulo’s bed. It was like he was a child again, sneaking into his brother’s room to hang out with him.

The two would spend the night talking about their family and school, and literally anything else they could think of. Alvaro felt strange when he slept in his own room. He wondered what it’d be like when Paulo left.

They had a day off before travelling to Barcelona, so they spent the night watching Saw V. Which was like, the worst idea, because then they both couldn’t sleep.

Alvaro tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in. He heard Paulo doing the same above him. So he reached out with a hand and grabbed Paulo’s ankle.

And Paulo started _screaming_ , that idiot. He screamed and yanked his leg away and yelled “oh my God!” and Alvaro simultaneously burst into laughter and shushed him because he was going to wake the entire house and they were going to get in trouble.

“Someone grabbed me!” Paulo yelled as Alvaro hurriedly climbed into bed and pressed his palm over Paulo’s mouth.

“It was me, Jesus, fuck, it was me!” Alvaro said frantically.

Paulo stopped struggling immediately. He glared at Alvaro as a huge grin slowly made its way across Alvaro’s face. “Fuck you, man,” he said.

Alvaro started laughing again, and Paulo pushed him so he fell off the bed and onto the floor in a laughing heap. “God, the look on your face, Paulo!”

“I hate you!”

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened,” Alvaro sighed as he lay back down.

“Now I can’t sleep,” Paulo said.

“Oh please, like you could sleep just now?”

Paulo went quiet in resignation. He gave a little huff and turned so his back was facing Alvaro. And everything was silent again and it made Alvaro uneasy so he tried to make some noise by tossing and turning again to distract himself.

“Stop it,” Paulo grumbled.

“I’m too scared to sleep,” Alvaro confessed. “I’m too close to the underneath of your bed and –“

“Okay, stop right there,” Paulo interrupted, and okay, fair enough, neither of them needed any narration of what kind of monster could possibly be hiding under Paulo’s bed.

“See, you’re scared too, don’t give me flak for being a pussy.”

Paulo sighed and sat up. He reached over and grabbed a handful of the shoulder of Alvaro’s shirt. “Come up here and sleep with me.”

And Alvaro didn’t bother to ask any questions, just clambered up next to Paulo and into whatever space that was left next to him. Which was reasonable because Paulo was so tiny. He found himself face to face with Paulo.

“Well, this is not weird at all,” Paulo remarked. He gave Alvaro a nudge. “Turn around.”

“No, this way you can see what’s behind me and I can see what’s behind you.”

Paulo rolled his eyes but the look on his face let Alvaro know he was right. “Sometimes I think we switched ages.”

“Whatever, you know this works,” Alvaro said. He closed his eyes and, man, it felt so much better up here than it did down below. “Good night.”

“Night,” Paulo said, suddenly sounding sleepy.

Alvaro tried to go to sleep again but he felt a different kind of uneasiness – not the uneasiness of being so close to Paulo he could feel Paulo breathing on his face, but the uneasiness of being _so comfortable with it_.

He tried to turn around so maybe his heart and mind would stop running wild, but when he only moved slightly Paulo reached over and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, holding on tightly, preventing him from moving anywhere.

And Alvaro smiled, half because Paulo had essentially admitted that Alvaro had been right about their sleeping position and half because Paulo had just validated his comfort by expressing his own.

And he thought: they only had ten days left to spend together. Who knew when they’d meet again, much less have the chance to spend so much time together, every single moment of every single day, not apart even during sleep?

So Alvaro gently grasped Paulo’s wrist, the one connected to the hand on Alvaro’s shirt, and closed his eyes and fell into a – thankfully – dreamless sleep.

\------

The trip to Barcelona started off the same. Paulo and Alvaro trained their guts out, Paulo got dibs on the shower, and they both collapsed in bed after sightseeing.

“Hey, did you buy another of those dirty magazines?” Alvaro called from his bed.

Paulo raised his middle finger in the air.

Alvaro laughed and leaned over to check the bedside drawer. After finding nothing inside, he lay back down with a sigh. “Pity, I think I need one tonight.”

Paulo propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Alvaro. “Do you do this all the time when you’re away?”

“No,” Alvaro said, avoiding Paulo’s gaze. “Last week was the first time. I don’t, uh. I don’t do it when someone else is with me.”

“You know,” Paulo started, and then hesitated. “I, uh. When I, you know, jerk off. I’ve never had one like that. Like last week.”

Alvaro sighed. “It was great, wasn’t it?”

And Paulo felt this pink rush of simultaneous embarrassment and relief because okay, at least Alvaro felt it too, but man, did he _not_ want to talk about jerking off to _anyone_ ever again.

Unfortunately for him, Alvaro wasn’t getting out of his mood so easily. He unzipped his jeans, grabbed his phone and like, actually started searching for porn on it. When he noticed Paulo still staring at him, he asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”

“If I said yes, would that stop you?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro chuckled and went back to his business. Paulo briefly thought about getting up and showering, but a part of him wanted to stay and see how this played out. It wasn’t that he had a fetish for watching Alvaro jerk off or whatever, because he _didn’t_. It was because he thought maybe he had another chance of achieving _that_ kind of orgasm. And besides, it was a little wasteful to take two showers.

He found himself unzipping his jeans as well, and moving to coax his semi into a full hard-on. Which didn’t take much effort. Alvaro, though, was well ahead, so caught up that he’d given up on the porn and instead settled with just the squeezing and stroking, occasional inhuman-sounding moans and grunts escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” Paulo muttered. It was fucking _hot_ , even if he hated to admit it. It was even better that Alvaro didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction.

Paulo managed to time his strokes to Alvaro’s, punctuated by those sounds he was making. Whenever Alvaro made one Paulo found himself following right after. Gasp after gasp, groan after groan, Paulo matched every one of Alvaro’s.

“It’s not a fucking competition,” Alvaro breathed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo replied. He tightened his grip a little and almost electrocuted himself.

“ _You_ shut the fuck up,” Alvaro said in between gasps. “Everyone’s gonna hear us.”

And okay, fair enough, Paulo’s grunts were getting louder. But fuck, the way he _felt_. There couldn’t possibly be any sound he could make to express the satisfaction other than the ones he was making. And Alvaro’s voice just made it worse; or _better_ , depending on how you were looking at it.

Paulo turned his head and, in the haziness of his vision, saw Alvaro arch his back off his bed and thrust one last time into his hand before he came, his come spurting over his hand and jeans and t-shirt but miraculously, not a drop on the sheets. Alvaro lay there for a few moments, panting heavily, his hand still softly stroking himself, smearing the white liquid all over his dick.

And fuck, okay, _that_ was hot. Paulo squeezed his eyes shut again and restarted his rhythm, his other hand moving to cup his own balls. He gave himself a few violent strokes all the way up to the tip, teasing himself at the end, coordinating it with the new pressure on his balls; and a few moments later found a burst of energy rocking his lower body as he practically milked himself dry.

“Holy fuck,” he heard Alvaro say.

“Holy fuck indeed,” Paulo whispered, too out of breath to actually say anything. This was it. The fifth dimension shit. It happened again. He wasn’t sure if he was just getting better at jerking himself off or if it was the thrill again. He wasn’t sure which one was better.

The both of them lay in silence again, sprawled out on their own beds, neither actually daring to turn and make eye contact. Until Alvaro said, in a small voice, “Is this weird? I feel like this is supposed to be weird.”

Paulo gave that a little thought. It _was_ kinda weird, in a way. But it didn’t warrant much thinking about. It was probably just the thrill-seeking side of them getting a stronger hold in these circumstances.

“It’s not, I guess,” Paulo said. “I mean, I guess guys our age jerk off all the time.”

“Yeah, but not with someone else jerking off together with them.”

“Look, whatever works, right? And this works.”

Alvaro laughed. “Yeah. Look, Paulo, I don’t wanna be weird or whatever, but that was incredible. Like, both times. I don’t even know why.”

And Paulo was glad because at least he felt the same. “I don’t know why either, but yeah, man. It was the best.”

“I can’t believe we’re discussing orgasms,” Alvaro said.

“At least we’re talking about it openly,” Paulo suggested.

Alvaro gave a little happy sigh and stood up to slide his jeans off himself. He gave Paulo a little shy smile as he headed towards the bathroom, his dick in full, plain view.

“Dibs on the shower,” he said, and laughed when Paulo gave a loud groan.

A moment later a clean towel landed on Paulo’s face, and Paulo couldn’t help but laugh along as he wiped himself off. Screw the weirdness. He’d found this incredible thing he could do with Alvaro and he wasn’t going to overthink it.

\------

They were put on different teams again for the friendly in Barcelona – not by the coaches, but because Isco had chosen Alvaro and was too slow to get Paulo before Sergi did. But this time Alvaro’s team beat Paulo’s team 4-2, so Alvaro was like whatever.

Paulo was quiet on the train ride home, his eyes fixed on the view out the window. Paulo being quiet wasn’t a novelty – rather, it was the _way_ he was being quiet. Alvaro knew it wasn’t because of the game; Paulo wasn’t a sore loser. But he couldn’t help but ask.

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly. “You okay?”

Paulo just stared at him with his piercing green eyes, and Alvaro felt like it was one of those moments again – a moment like the one when he fell asleep next to Paulo after they stalked one another on the internet or when they were both too afraid to sleep after watching Saw. Like the one when Paulo gave him a lingering look after thanking Alvaro for listening to him talk about his father. Or like the one when Paulo was done jerking off and he’d lie there in bed with his hair strewn all over his face and he’d think Alvaro wasn’t looking but he was.

One of those moments too deep for words to describe but which Alvaro desperately wished he could explain. It was like a rare moment of peace in all the chaos of life. Like when everything just seemed to be _okay_ even though it wasn’t. A moment that gave Alvaro the power to forget every single one of his worries. A special moment that belonged only to the both of them.

“Yeah,” Paulo finally said. “Just thinking.”

“You miss home?” Alvaro suggested.

“Yeah, no, I mean,” Paulo sighed and started playing with his thumbs. “I do. I just…don’t want to leave. Next week I’m going back and I don’t know when I’ll see you again and fuck, this is cheesy as fuck but I loved staying with you and I don’t know what I’ll do when I’m alone again.”

“You won’t be alone,” Alvaro whispered. The fact that they lived halfway around the world from each other irked Alvaro as much as it did Paulo. But it was 2009 and there were zillions of ways they could keep in touch even though they couldn’t physically be there. Alvaro chose to look on the bright side.

“We’ll stay in touch, yeah?” Paulo said. “I’d hate to lose contact with you.”

And Paulo looked like he was going to have an emotional breakdown so Alvaro wrapped an arm over his shoulders and dragged him close. “Of course. You can’t escape me, Dybala.”

Paulo turned and smiled at him, and fuck, there was that feeling again. Another moment that sent Alvaro’s heart racing even though he hadn’t the slightest idea why. The fact that Paulo’s face was literally three inches away from his didn’t help at all.

If Paulo had been a girl, Alvaro would’ve instantly made the move. It was the right moment; in fact, Alvaro briefly thought that maybe they _were_ going to kiss. He felt himself instinctively pull Paulo closer, and Paulo’s pupils were so dilated his eyes were dark, and his mouth fell open a little. His gaze was still trained on Alvaro’s eyes, like he was _waiting_ for it to happen.

And in that one moment Alvaro felt like he _wanted_ to kiss Paulo. Maybe it was all the jerking off they did together. All the confiding they did in one another. The sharing a bed. Or the equally silly fears they had towards fictional horror movies. But Alvaro for once felt like he could actually kiss a boy – kiss _Paulo_ – and enjoy it.

But their little peaceful bubble was burst when the train suddenly ground to a halt and they both jerked forward so violently you could almost see an imprint of their faces in the seats in front.

Alvaro cleared his throat as Paulo desperately tried to distract himself by using his hands to iron out a non-existent crease in his shirt. With enough luck, Paulo wouldn’t have noticed Alvaro nearly wanting to make a move on him. Who even _knew_ if Paulo was as okay with it as Alvaro seemed to be? Alvaro might have just nearly ruined everything.

“Uh,” Paulo said. He seemed a little embarrassed. And he didn’t manage to continue, because an announcement came over the PA system saying they’d be stalled for a while.

“Well,” Alvaro said, and instantly regretted it because he actually didn’t have anything to say. He quickly conjured up some random topic, though. “Have you ever thought of playing for any European teams?”

Paulo perked up once again at the mention of football. Fortunately, because if not, Alvaro would have dug a hole through the bottom of the train and disappeared forever.

“Everyone dreams of coming to Europe,” Paulo said. “Maybe Italy, since my mom’s family is from there. And my grandfather’s from Poland so I’d like to play there one day. I know Poland’s a weird destination but, you know.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He didn’t know why but he just did. “I know. I hope you get to play in all your ancestors’ countries.”

“I hope I get to play with you one day,” Paulo said softly.

“Me, too,” Alvaro smiled.

And then it went silent again, but instead of being awkward it was comfortable. Paulo settled with watching the scenery flit by as Alvaro sat in his seat staring at the little dent his forehead had made in the leather of the front seat.

He found himself imagining that the violent braking of the train earlier had caused him and Paulo to crash into _one another_ instead of in front. Maybe he _would_ have gotten in a kiss. He let himself think of all the possible positive situations that could have arisen.

And he found himself wishing that it had happened.

But it was over now, that moment, so Alvaro closed his eyes with a sigh and tried to think of happier times like when his mom’s chilli was too spicy for Paulo but Paulo ate it all, anyway, like the little adorable idiot that he was.

\------

On the Sunday of Paulo’s last week in Spain, Alvaro’s family brought him out for dinner.

It wasn’t just a simple dinner – his parents had made a reservation and everything. It was at some fancy restaurant and Paulo had put on his nicest shirt and tried his best to tame his hair but he still received an endearing laugh from Alvaro when he appeared downstairs.

“Your hair’s weird,” he said.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro eyed him for a few more moments. “Good weird, I guess.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Paulo retorted, but grinned when Alvaro gave a slight pout. He grabbed Alvaro’s elbow and pulled him outside towards the car. “Come on. Stop being jealous of my hair.”

“I am not jealous of your hair!”

“If you say so,” Paulo laughed.

They spent the whole journey to the restaurant bickering in the back seat with Marta, and Paulo really felt like he was part of this family, too. And he could tell Alvaro was enjoying it – he had this big smile on his face and his eyes had disappeared and Paulo wished he could stay here forever and make Alvaro smile like that every day.

Alvaro already knew everything about Paulo’s family, but his parents and Marta didn’t. So Paulo became the star of the show at the dinner table, telling them about his family and life in Argentina. And to Alvaro’s credit, he paid full attention even though he’d already heard it before, nodding and smiling and laughing at the right moments. Paulo felt so grateful to have had the luck to be hosted at such a supportive family’s place.

At the end of dinner they all squeezed on Paulo and Alvaro’s side of the table to take a group photo, and Paulo ended up so crammed up between Alvaro and his dad that he was almost half sat on Alvaro’s lap, their thighs pressed firmly against each other’s. He felt like the baby of the family. Well, in a way, he _was_ the baby of the family.

When they all dispersed back to their seats and they both had more than enough space again, Alvaro didn’t move. He didn’t retreat to his original position, just sat there with his thigh pressed up against Paulo’s and a look of nonchalance on his face when Paulo glanced over.

And fuck, Paulo kinda liked it, so he stayed that way too, and Alvaro became less tense as the minutes passed. When Paulo turned to him again he received a shy but encouraging smile, and a dip in Alvaro’s gaze, like he was still unsure of what to make of all of this.

Paulo didn’t want to lead him on, or whatever – after all, they only had like, six days left with each other. But he also wanted to make the most out of these six days.

So he leaned himself on Alvaro, shoulder to shoulder, and continued fielding the questions from Alvaro’s family. He could feel it every time Alvaro laughed; literally, because they were pressed together so tight an ant would have trouble getting through, and also figuratively, down in his bones.

Alvaro was much quieter on the way home than he was on the journey out. Paulo let him call dibs on the bathroom because he seemed upset about something.

When they were both settled in bed – well, Paulo was in bed, Alvaro was in his sleeping bag – Paulo found that he couldn’t sleep without knowing what was wrong.

“Hey,” he called. “You asleep?”

“No,” was Alvaro’s reply.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. After a short pause, he continued. “I just realised how much I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

And Paulo sighed because firstly, they’d already been through this, and secondly, Paulo was equally frustrated and helpless at that fact. He had _no idea_ how to make things better.

Well, except one way.

He reached over and grabbed a handful of Alvaro’s sleeve, tugging at it until Alvaro sat up. Then he lifted his sheets and patted the empty space in bed.

“Come sleep with me,” he said as Alvaro gazed at him with his sad, confused brown eyes.

Alvaro climbed into bed gratefully, and lay down so there was a comfortable amount of space in between them. He smiled at Paulo as Paulo covered them both with the sheets.

“Wouldn’t want you to be caught by the monster under my bed,” Paulo whispered.

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro whispered back, sending a gust of air across Paulo’s face.

And in that magical instant everything was okay again.

Paulo watched as Alvaro fell asleep with the most peaceful upturned curl of his lips, a stark contrast to how his mood had been earlier. And then he, too, fell asleep feeling the exact same way – at peace, safe, and grateful for everything that had happened to him over the last three weeks.


	6. Say You'll See Me Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift.

The final match of the exchange was to be played at the Santiago Bernabeu. It was between the Argentines and the Spanish, and Alvaro was a little jittery about it, although he had no idea why. He’d been training well.

He was in awe again as he stepped into the stadium. He couldn’t wait for the day he’d walk out to a roaring crowd of a full stadium and have them egg him on every step of the ninety minutes.

There was a small crowd of people, though – the families of the Spanish players, gathered in a cluster of seats right above the tunnel entrance. Alvaro waved to his family as he went out on the pitch. He saw Paulo do the same.

Alvaro played the first half of the match with Isco and Dani feeding him great passes and crosses but none of them ending in a goal. Paulo, meanwhile, was running the Spanish defense ragged, darting in and out at lightning speed and no one could handle him so Alvaro had to track back all the time.

Midway through the half Paulo scored his first goal, a clever dart between Marc and Sergi before lobbing it over David for the opening goal of the match.

And Alvaro half wanted to go over and hug him but evidently that would have been wrong on so many levels, so instead he stood where he was with his hands on his hips, gnawing on his bottom lip because he was so _confused_. And angry, because he just _couldn’t score._

It didn’t make things any better when literally a moment after Alvaro kicked off for Spain, the ball got to a pair of Argentine feet and was quickly passed forward for attack again.

“Mark him, mark him!” Alvaro yelled at the top of his lungs as he sprinted as quickly as he could. He saw his defenders swarming in as the ball was passed to Paulo. It was like they were moving in slow motion, except they were actually not, it was just because Paulo was so _quick_.

“Fuck,” Alvaro muttered as Paulo wriggled his way through the defense again to receive a return pass. And then he curled the ball beautifully past David for his second goal in like, two minutes.

Alvaro stopped running, thoroughly exhausted, and squatted on the ground briefly, glaring at all his teammates. “I told you to track him!” he yelled. “Are you going to let him do that for the next hour? You’re all useless! Fucking useless!”

And everyone ignored him, which was a good thing he guessed, because Marc was likely to be the U-17 captain and Alvaro had just screamed at him. He didn’t even know why he was so angry. It was just a friendly match. Against his literal friends.

He trudged back to the centre circle for kick-off again, and this time they managed to keep the ball for somewhat longer before it went back to Argentine feet again. Alvaro rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out and rolled along with the ball.

He ran all the way back to his defense. If they weren’t going to do the job then _he_ was going to do it _himself_. He charged straight up to Paulo, hovering behind him, alternating between watching his every move and watching the ball.

When the ball came towards Paulo, Alvaro swooped in like a vulture on its prey. He ran up behind Paulo and quite literally swept Paulo off his feet as he challenged for the ball. Paulo fell to the ground with a loud yelp, clutching his knee, and Alvaro dribbled a few steps with the ball before being called back by the whistle and a yellow card.

“Well, someone’s got to do the dirty work,” Alvaro muttered. He offered Paulo a hand. “You okay?”

“Fuck off,” Paulo replied. He stood up, walked it off, and then lined up to take the resulting free kick.

And scored.

And spent the rest of the game, including half time, ignoring the fuck out of Alvaro.

Alvaro managed to score a goal before he was taken off, and Spain eventually lost 3-2.

The car ride home was silent. You could almost poke the tension in the atmosphere with a needle. Alvaro and Paulo sat in the backseat, separated by Marta, who gave Alvaro occasional wide-eyed stares like she wasn’t exactly sure how to mediate this fight. Paulo had gotten a little trophy for being the Man of the Match, and a ball as a souvenir, and he was holding them in his lap, like he wanted to use them to spite Alvaro. He also had an ice pack still strapped around his knee.

Alvaro crossed his arms across his chest. Okay, so he didn’t have the best game. But he’d apologised. And not only to his teammates – he apologised, multiple times even, to Paulo as he stormed around the locker rooms and showers and finally to the car with Alvaro literally chasing after him. He wasn’t sure what else he could do.

No one in the family said a word until they were all inside the house and Paulo had limped up the stairs and straight into his room.

“You really lost it out there,” Marta said.

“Go away,” Alvaro grumbled. He got himself a drink from the fridge and stood at the kitchen counter gulping it down. As much as Alvaro was upset that Paulo was so mad, he also felt lonely not having anyone to discuss the match with.

He took his drink up to his room and locked himself in. The room felt strange without someone with him. That someone being Paulo, to be exact. In fact, he’d spent so much time in Paulo’s room that he felt weird being alone in his own. He stayed inside, though, until he heard Paulo finish his shower and retreat back into his room. Then he took his own shower and just chilled in his room but when night came, found that he couldn’t sleep, not when he wasn’t ten inches away from Paulo like he usually was, on the floor of his room.

Alvaro sighed. He went downstairs and made a glass of warm milk and found a heat pack. He headed upstairs and stood outside Paulo’s door for a few minutes, not sure what to say or if Paulo would even let him inside in the first place. And then the heat pack started to get less warm, so Alvaro sighed again and moved to knock on Paulo’s door.

“It’s not locked,” Paulo said before he could knock. Like he’d known Alvaro was snooping around outside his room. Screw it, he probably did.

Paulo was sitting on his bed, his phone in his hands and his knee draped over a pillow. The ice pack was in the bin and his knee looked all bruised up.

Alvaro approached cautiously and, when Paulo didn’t snap at him, sat down on the edge of the bed. He handed Paulo the milk and the heat pack. “You had a fantastic game.”

Paulo stared at him through his incredibly long eyelashes for a few moments before reaching out hesitantly and taking the glass and the heat pack. He placed the pack over his knee and his forehead smoothened out at how comfortable it felt.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro continued. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I need to learn how to control my temper. You did nothing wrong, you were just playing your own game and I had no right to barge in on you like that. I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I was too hot-tempered. I guess…I guess it was because my family was there and I wanted to make them proud but you were so great and I was so shitty. I guess that’s how having a brother feels, yeah? But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that get in the way.”

And that brought a little smile to Paulo’s face, finally. He took a sip from the glass of milk, then handed it to Alvaro to share. Alvaro took it but just held it, because he was more interested in Paulo’s response than the stupid glass of milk.

“It’s okay,” Paulo said softly, and Alvaro literally felt every muscle in his body finally relax.

“Congrats on your hat-trick,” he added.

“Thanks,” Paulo smiled down at his lap. He took the milk back from Alvaro and took a big gulp of it.

They sat there quietly for a while, neither of them knowing what to say next. Paulo nervously sipped on the glass of milk as he thought of what to do. Eventually, he finished the milk, and Alvaro took that as an opportunity to maybe leave the room. You know, since Paulo didn’t seem to want to talk.

“Uh,” he said as he stood up and took the glass from Paulo. “Good night.”

Paulo waited until Alvaro was at the door before he spoke. “Wait.”

Alvaro turned around. “Yeah?”

Paulo pointed to the heap of Alvaro’s sleep gear. “Sleep here.”

And that made Alvaro smile, which in turn made _Paulo_ smile, and Alvaro placed the glass on Paulo’s table before sliding into his sleeping bag gratefully. They both lay in their places quietly, facing the ceiling, until Alvaro finally mustered the courage to say, “Paulo.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said.

“We okay?”

And Paulo sat up in bed and Alvaro briefly thought he was going to get yelled at. But Paulo only smiled a warm smile and reached over with his foot and poked Alvaro in the tummy.

“Of course,” he said.

And then, as if the little tiff between them had never happened, they smoothly transitioned into talking about the match they’d just played, animatedly discussing every little detail, carefully skirting around the topic of the fight until Paulo eventually caved and started teasing Alvaro for being a hothead.

Alvaro just had to get up after that, of course, and pounce into Paulo’s bed to wrestle him. But carefully, because he didn’t want to hurt Paulo again.

They ended up falling asleep with Alvaro draped over Paulo’s legs like they were a pillow and Paulo hugging Alvaro’s legs like they were a bolster, and a smile on both their faces because they both knew they were always going to be just fine.

\------

There was a little farewell party at a lakeside villa on the evening before the Argentine boys’ flight home. Everyone put on their nicest shirt, including Paulo and Alvaro, who put on the same blue and red plaid shirt. They wrestled it out again and Alvaro lost so he had to go change.

“Thanks to you we’re late,” Paulo remarked. “The party’s already in half swing.”

“That’s because we’re the ones who’ll make it full swing,” Alvaro replied with a smirk. “Also, you were the one who made me go change, so it’s not entirely my fault.”

“Don’t tell me you wanted to come to the party looking like a set of dorky twins.”

“Twins?” Alvaro looked him up and down. “You and me? Pfft.”

And he laughed and ran away as Paulo smacked him on the head. Paulo stood by the corner near the door – he wasn’t in any of the Argentine youth teams, so he barely knew any of these guys, only got acquainted with some of them on the flight to Spain. Another reason why he was so glad he was so close to Alvaro.

Thankfully, Alvaro didn’t leave his side for long. He returned with two cups of soda – which was all they had at this youth party – and stood next to Paulo, the both of them just leaning against the wall and watching the room.

“I can’t believe one month just flew by like that,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah,” Paulo said sadly.

“I know I said this on the first day you were here, but I’m really glad I got you. Coach was right. You’re one of the best. Actually, you _are_ the best. And not just in football. You’re the best at everything you do, Paulo, and I’m very happy I got to meet you.”

Paulo smiled. “You know, my coach told me the same thing. He said you were hot-tempered but that was what made you one of the best at what you do. It was what made you brave and so determined. And I don’t know if you could tell but I was a little scared when I first met you.”

Alvaro burst into laughter. “Yeah, I could totally tell.”

“But he was right,” Paulo continued. “You’re really good. And you’re only going to get better.”

Alvaro wrapped an arm around Paulo’s neck, and before he pulled Paulo in close for a hug Paulo could’ve sworn he saw Alvaro’s eyes glistening with tears.

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered.

And Paulo couldn’t explain this feeling, really. It was pure, sheer luck that someone had dropped out and he’d been chosen on this trip despite not being on the national team and for probably being too small to attract any attention. And it was _another_ stroke of good luck that let him be paired with Alvaro and for them to discover so many things together. It had literally changed his life and it was the weirdest thing because Paulo sometimes felt like he wasn’t supposed to come on this trip.

They went to get some food and stand with some of the other boys. Paulo mostly listened to them. He was used to being the listener in conversations. Alvaro was practically the only one who actually cared to let him talk. Or made him talk.

But he did have fun, though, listening to the hilarious stories and screw-ups of the other Argentine-Spanish pairs. He even got in one of his and Alvaro’s stories – nothing kinky though, just the one when Alvaro had been too sleepy and put salt in his coffee instead of sugar and ended up being more wide awake than ever after puking his guts out.

After everyone had calmed down, Alvaro disappeared again and reappeared with another two cups of soda. The both of them snuck out of the circle and outside near the lake.

“What about your other friends?” Paulo asked as they found a flat rock by the shore.

“I can see them anytime I want,” Alvaro said to the ground. Then he lifted his gaze to Paulo’s face. “You? Do you wanna hang out with your friends?”

Paulo shook his head. They weren’t really his friends. Or at least, not yet; maybe they’ll be friends if he chose to play for the Argentine national team.

Silence fell upon them. The outside of the villa was peaceful, with only the sounds of leaves rustling, water lapping at land, and the vague chirping of crickets. The lake was surrounded by dim yellow lamps at regular intervals, the space in between occupied by other distant villas. There was a lamp right above them, but Paulo couldn’t really see Alvaro’s face, just his position from the light blue shirt he was wearing.

Paulo picked up a little rock from the ground and aimed it at the lake. It skipped thrice across the surface before sinking with a plop.

Alvaro gave a little scoff and did the same. It skipped four times and Alvaro gave a victorious whoop.

“It’s not a fucking competition,” Paulo said, in a tone mocking Alvaro’s.

And in the dim lighting Paulo saw Alvaro smile. “Shut the fuck up,” he replied.

“ _You_ shut the fuck up. Everyone’s gonna hear us.”

Alvaro burst into laughter. It was a very pleasant sound, one that made Paulo smile.

“Can you believe that actually happened?” Alvaro asked. Everything that had happened in those hotel rooms in Valencia and Barcelona stayed there. They never spoke about it after they left. But before Paulo could think of a good answer, Alvaro continued, “You know, I only believe it happened because it was you. If it had been anyone else…I don’t think it would have been the same.”

Paulo turned to Alvaro and saw that he was already watching him. Alvaro’s brown eyes reflected the yellow light in the most mesmerising way, like two little pools of gold. Paulo didn’t know how to react to the way Alvaro was gazing at him except to smile.

A period of silence passed again, but this time with the both of them facing each other, bodies twisted and eyes fixed on each other’s face.

Paulo was briefly transported back to that train ride from Barcelona. He didn’t know if he’d been overthinking it or if Alvaro _had_ been about to kiss him before the train braked. But either way, it was one of those moments again. A silence that didn’t tell the whole story. A story that only Alvaro and Paulo knew the entirety of.

Alvaro’s lips started to curl upwards slightly in a gentle smile. And Paulo found his doing the same, like he just _couldn’t_ _help_ being happy as long as Alvaro was. But still not a word was said. They just sat there, more being said between them with their gaze than words would ever.

Paulo didn’t know if it was the dimness of the surroundings playing tricks on his eyes but he could’ve sworn Alvaro started moving closer to him. He leaned over, and his shoulder was touching Paulo’s, and Paulo felt a breath hitch in his throat because he was almost _sure_ he was going to get kissed but he was less confident about whether he _wanted_ it to happen.

His gaze remained fixed on Alvaro’s, because hell, if he _was_ going to get kissed, he didn’t want to miss a single moment. And also because he just didn’t want to take his eyes off Alvaro. If he closed his eyes and he _didn’t_ get kissed, he’d feel so embarrassed he’d jump into the lake and never come back again.

Alvaro’s gaze dipped towards Paulo’s lips, and that was when Paulo realised his mouth had fallen open again, just like that day on the train. And _fuck_ , okay, Paulo had to admit Alvaro looked almost irresistible from that view, his eyelashes fanning his cheeks, a view Paulo rarely got to see because he was too short but on that day he could because they were sitting down and _so close_ to each other.

But Alvaro mirrored his action, his own lips falling open, so at least Paulo needn’t have been embarrassed about that. They stayed in that position for what seemed like a long while, the night air chilly but warm at the same time. Warm somewhere deep inside Paulo. And also warm on his face because Alvaro was breathing all over it, quickly, in and out, and somehow that was weirdly soothing.

Paulo wasn’t going to be the kind who just sat around and waited to be kissed. He wasn’t exactly _desperate_ to be kissed to the extent that he wouldn’t make the move himself. So he thought that if Alvaro wasn’t going to make the move, he would.

But just as suddenly as that moment came, it passed.

They both felt it. Both Paulo and Alvaro. The little bubble they’d been sitting in had suddenly popped. They went from their noses almost touching one moment to them scooting so far aside Paulo almost knocked his soda over in the next.

There was silence again as they just sat staring straight ahead, watching the gentle ripples cut across the lake.

Maybe it was for the best, Paulo thought. He was going to leave _tomorrow_ _evening_. Why start something he couldn’t be here to continue? He lived _halfway across the world,_ for God’s sake. And he wasn’t even sure of these feelings, honestly. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him. He didn’t want to lose Alvaro over something as silly as this.

A sudden chill took over them as a cool wind started to blow, rustling the trees and the leaves around them. Alvaro crushed his empty soda cup and stood up, a signal to Paulo that they should get inside where it would be warmer. He was smiling a little as he turned to Paulo, like he was amused, again, at how the wind completely messed up Paulo’s unruly hair.

And as Paulo walked alongside him he wasn’t sure if it was the sound of Alvaro’s whisper or just the sound of the violent rustling of the trees that formed the words, “I’m sorry.”

\------

It was eerily silent in the car as Alvaro’s entire family accompanied Paulo to catch his flight.

Paulo felt like he had a billion things to say to Alvaro but he just couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. They were all jumbled up and he was just upset and nostalgic and he felt so pathetic. When he looked over at Alvaro he saw Alvaro staring out the window, silently counting the streetlights that they passed.

He reached over and placed his hand on Alvaro’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. Alvaro turned and managed to flash Paulo a weak but genuine smile.

When they reached the airport Alvaro’s parents helped Paulo check in but Paulo didn’t join the rest of his group outside the departure hall. Instead he hovered around Alvaro like a little pest, and ended up being bear-hugged by every other member of Alvaro’s family. He listened to all their well-wishes and almost burst into tears.

Alvaro stuck his hands in his pockets as he finally walked Paulo to where the group was standing. Then he turned around and smiled sadly at Paulo.

“So this is it, I guess,” he said.

Paulo’s heart sank. Yes, this was it. But he didn’t want it to be.

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” Paulo asked.

“Of course,” Alvaro replied, sounding thoroughly relieved. “Man, Paulo, I have no fucking idea how, but we’ll definitely meet again.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered. “For everything over the past month. Sleeping on the ground for me, or staying up late to talk to me, or, you know. Just being us. I’m going to miss this.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro moved to ruffle Paulo’s hair. He never seemed to be able to resist doing that. “Hey, I have something for you.”

Paulo gazed curiously at him. He didn’t have a bag or anything in his hands. “What?”

“It’s in your bag. I slipped it in.”

“What a creep,” Paulo teased. “Can I look at it now?”

“Sure.”

So Paulo unzipped his backpack and saw the flash of red that was the Spain jersey sitting on top of all his stuff. He took it out. It had Alvaro’s name and number on the back.

“It’s the one I wore when you scored your hat-trick,” Alvaro informed him.

“Did you wash it?” Paulo asked, earning himself a smack on the shoulder. “I’m kidding. Thank you.”

Alvaro looked slightly disappointed that Paulo didn’t have anything for him. But only slightly, because Alvaro wasn’t materialistic. Besides, he’d know what Paulo had for him when he returned home. Paulo folded the jersey up nicely and placed it back in his bag. Alvaro was still staring at him when he looked back up, and he looked as sad and pathetic as Paulo felt.

So Paulo opened his arms, took a step forward, and hugged Alvaro, finding very unsurprisingly that his face rested perfectly in the middle of Alvaro’s chest.

Alvaro wrapped him up almost immediately, and he was so tall Paulo almost disappeared into him and he couldn’t breathe but fuck, who cared about breathing? He squeezed Alvaro tightly against him and let himself drown in the feeling of Alvaro breathing on his forehead, of Alvaro’s hand moving gently over his back, soothingly, making Paulo feel so much better just like he had so many times before, in a way that only Alvaro was capable of.

“You are going to be one of the best young players very soon,” Alvaro said, and Paulo could feel the vibration of his voice box and he was strangely calmed by it. “You’re going to play your way up there, and you are never going to give up no matter how tough things are, and your father is going to be very, very proud of you. I hope you believe in yourself as much as I believe in you because fuck, Paulo, you deserve it. You deserve to be the best. And I am going to be by your side every step of the way, okay? I promise. I’m not there in Argentina or whatever, but I’m only just a call away any time you need me.”

Paulo smiled. He gently moved so his lips were resting on the part of Alvaro’s collarbones that were peeking out of his collar. “Now you’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

Alvaro chuckled. “I know,” he whispered.

And that was it. Their friendship summed up in two words.

“I have one last piece of advice for you,” Alvaro added.

“What is it?”

“Do something to your damn hair.”

“Fuck off,” Paulo laughed, and so did Alvaro, but neither of them moved, just stayed there in their tight hug, wanting to cherish every last moment of this. Every last moment of what they might have had, could have had, but were never meant to have.

Then Paulo’s coach started calling them into departures, so Paulo pulled away from the hug and grasped Alvaro by the elbows instead. “I had the best time of my life with you, Alvi.”

“Alvi,” Alvaro repeated with a smile. “You gonna call me that now?”

“If you want.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro’s smile grew. “I like it. And I had the best time of my life with you, too.”

“I’ll call you when I’m all settled in again.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro agreed. “No rush. I’ll always be here.”

“Bye, Alvi,” Paulo whispered, for if he spoke any louder his voice would give way and he’d be lying on the ground at the airport crying like a little baby.

Alvaro closed the gap between them again and kissed Paulo on the crook of his neck, as casually as he could manage, just a gentle smack with his lips. Then he gave both of Paulo’s shoulders a squeeze.

“Bye, Paulo. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.”

Paulo found himself turning back every three steps even though he didn’t want to. Alvaro’s family was waving at him, but Alvaro wasn’t; he was just standing there forlornly with the saddest smile Paulo had ever seen. It was only when Paulo raised a hand did Alvaro start to wave.

He walked as slowly as he could so he could continue watching Alvaro for the longest time possible. Who knew when was the next time he could see Alvaro? Not the pixelated form on his laptop screen or the impressive high-definition photographs on google. He wanted to see _Alvaro_.

When Alvaro was finally too far to be seen, the sadness hit Paulo like a pile of bricks. He felt like he’d left a piece of his heart back there.

But he gulped down his sorrow and continued to walk, anyway, because Alvaro had so much faith in him and he was going to return that faith because Alvaro made him believe he could. Besides, he could barely wait to tell his family all about his new brother.

\------

Alvaro headed straight to bed when he got home. Well, he _was_ going to head straight to bed but he realised his pillows were missing and they were probably still in that sleep heap on Paulo’s floor.

It wasn’t that Paulo was a messy boy or anything, but it was weird to see his room so clean and empty. A pang of sadness hit Alvaro so suddenly that he had to sit down on Paulo’s bed so he could chill.

He picked up his sleeping bag and was about to fold it when something fell out of it. Something that wasn’t his blanket or pillows.

It was a nicely folded red-and-white-striped Instituto jersey with Paulo’s name and number on the back.

When Alvaro unfolded it, that porn magazine from Valencia fell out of it.

And Alvaro burst into laughter, which was a little silly because he was alone. But he did, anyway, and imagined that Paulo was sitting there on his bed and laughing together with him. He plucked off the post-it note that was stuck on the magazine.

_I thought it was better to give you an Instituto shirt because I haven’t decided whether I’ll play for Argentina. It’s red and white, like both your teams._

_PS: Of course I brought it home. Enjoy! ;)_

Alvaro grabbed everything and brought them back to his room. Paulo still managed to make him feel better even when he was a thousand miles away, literally flying in the air above the Atlantic Ocean.

He took out his phone and texted Paulo so he’d see it the moment he landed.

_Thank you, my little minx :)_


	7. Guilty Of Nothing But Geography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Birds by Coldplay.

Paulo called Alvaro two days later.

He sounded groggy, which Alvaro understood, because he’d woken Alvaro up which meant that it was probably like 4am in Argentina.

“Why are you awake?” Alvaro asked, his phone balanced on his ear because he was about to fall back asleep himself.

“I’m still in your time zone,” Paulo complained. “I just woke up.”

Alvaro’s yawn turned into a laugh. “What a loser.”

“Hey,” was all the argument Paulo managed to conjure.

“I have like, two weeks off, what do you wanna do?”

“Go back to Spain,” Paulo whined. “Where I can sleep properly.”

“Miss you too,” Alvaro said as he stretched and got up to go to the bathroom. Paulo was silent as Alvaro squeezed some toothpaste on his toothbrush. “What the fuck, did you fall back asleep?”

“No,” Paulo murmured, dragging the word out into another whine.

“Get up and go for a run or something,” Alvaro said. He started to brush his teeth but continued speaking. “Wake yourself up, do productive things, and don’t sleep too early tonight so you’ll wake up later.”

There was a short pause. “Somehow I understood everything you just said,” Paulo said.

“Good,” Alvaro finished up in the bathroom with his phone trapped between his shoulder and cheek. “Hey, you know what we should do?”

“Literally anything.”

“We should watch another horror movie.”

“Are you kidding? It’s dark as fuck outside.”

“By the time we finish it’ll be bright,” Alvaro urged. “Come on.”

Paulo reluctantly agreed, and upon Alvaro’s suggestion started searching for Shutter as Alvaro collected his breakfast from downstairs before dialling him on Skype.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Paulo said before they pressed the play button together. Alvaro could see from the tiny Skype window that Paulo had turned on practically all the lights in his room but was cowering under his blanket with his laptop. And it made Alvaro laugh because it was like, 10 in the morning where he was and it was bright as fuck so he wasn’t even going to be scared.

And honestly Alvaro spent more time watching Paulo’s reactions than he did the actual movie. Paulo had the _best_ reactions and Alvaro didn’t want to miss any one of them; no matter whether Paulo was literally hiding behind a pillow in fear, staring at the screen blankly in disbelief, or spewing a stream of vulgarities at any part he found particularly horrifying.

But Alvaro had been right, and by the time they were done the sky had brightened outside Paulo’s window and Paulo finally emerged from his little blanket igloo.

“I hate you for putting me through that,” he grumbled anyway. Because he was a grumpy idiot.

“Whatever, it works and you can’t deny it.”

And then Alvaro’s mom called him down for lunch but Paulo refused to let him go.

“You can’t just abandon me after making me watch a horror movie at five in the morning,” was his, well, very valid argument.

So Alvaro brought him downstairs and made him have lunch together with his family, just like old times – old times being like, three days ago when he was still in Spain. They all ate lunch together, breakfast for Paulo, before Alvaro carried Paulo back to his room again.

Then they spent the whole day hanging out together doing literally nothing, and Alvaro felt like Paulo had never left.

\------

Three days later Alvaro finally woke up on his own and not by Paulo’s middle-of-the-night call.

But honestly, he kinda missed it.

Because he was such a nice friend, though, he lazed around in bed for three hours doing nothing before he picked up the phone and called Paulo again.

“I had the _best_ sleep,” was what Paulo answered the call with.

Alvaro hung up on him.

But a few minutes later Paulo called back, and he was laughing over at the other end. “What a loser.”

They spent the entire day shooting insults at each other over the phone. They didn’t hang up even when Alvaro went out for a run. He didn’t normally talk to _anyone_ while he was jogging. He thought it was embarrassing that they’d hear him pant.

But Paulo ignored it, as if panting while chatting was a perfectly normal thing to do. Or as if he actually _liked_ listening to it.

\------

The two weeks passed uneventfully, at least in Alvaro’s point of view. As for Paulo, he was just getting settled again – and surprisingly, it wasn’t that easy. He missed Spain. He missed that bed in the room next to Alvaro’s. He missed listening to Alvaro’s noisy breathing, and waking up in the middle of the night and feeling comfortable because Alvaro was around.

He distracted himself by hanging out with his family, though, and it worked. They all Skype called Alvaro together sometimes. Paulo liked to believe that they were beginning to treat Alvaro as part of their family, too.

When they all went to Mexico for vacation, none of them said anything mean to Paulo when he called Alvaro from their hotel room. Paulo would have been suspicious had he not been too engrossed in whatever conversation he was having with Alvaro.

And then the time came when Alvaro had to start preparing for the U-17 World Cup in Nigeria.

Paulo followed literally every piece of news. He was too young to be invited, and he hadn’t decided which national team to be part of yet, anyway – but he was interested because it was Alvaro’s first major tournament and he wanted Alvaro to succeed.

He was a little concerned about the safety in Nigeria, though – the news sites were flooded with articles about all the violence and Paulo didn’t want to but he found himself scouring the web hours at a time just getting himself educated about every possible situation.

When he tried discussing with Alvaro, he seemed less concerned.

“They’ll probably solve it before the tournament starts,” he said dismissively after Paulo had spent like, twenty minutes summarising everything he’d just discovered for the day.

“How do you know that?” Paulo asked. He wanted Alvaro to do well in the tournament, for sure; but above all he wanted Alvaro to come back in one piece.

“I just do,” Alvaro said quickly. “Look, I’ve got to head to team dinner. Talk to you later.”

Then he hung up on Paulo.

\------

Paulo’s phone rang again at around three in the morning. He almost dropped it on the ground as he fumbled with it to pick up the call.

“Yeah?” he said groggily.

There was a pause over the phone. “Sorry,” Alvaro said. “I forgot about the time zones.”

“What is it?” Paulo asked. In all honesty, he hadn’t yet forgiven Alvaro for just brushing off his concern.

“I, uh,” Alvaro hesitated. “I wanted to apologise for the way I left yesterday.”

“Okay,” was all Paulo said. He didn’t _want_ to be mad. He just _was_. Because he _cared_.

“Paulo,” Alvaro continued. “I’m sorry. It’s just…just that we’re all trying to focus on the football, you know? But you come to me every day with these news about violence and I’m just…trying not to be distracted. Everyone on the team knows and our parents know but no one wants to talk about it. I’m sorry if you think I don’t appreciate it. Because I do, Paulo, I really do.”

“I know football is important to you,” Paulo finally said. “But I just want you to be okay, Alvi. I want you to be okay.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered.

“I can’t help it. I read these things every day and it gets worse and I just…I don’t know. Maybe I’m just scaring myself. But I want you back in one piece, okay, Alvi? You promised we’d meet again.”

“And we will,” Alvaro said determinedly. “We get the news too, Paulo. I follow everything. And they’re pretty confident they’re going to get it handled before the tournament starts. So…don’t worry, okay?”

“How can I not worry?” Paulo asked. He wished Alvaro knew exactly how much he meant to Paulo. He couldn’t imagine going one minute without wondering if Alvaro was okay.

“Just trust me,” Alvaro said softly, and when Paulo closed his eyes he could almost see the encouraging smile on Alvaro’s face. “I’ll take care of myself. Okay?”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered. “I’m sorry, too. For scaring you with these things. And for like, butting into your life.”

“No, Paulo. I appreciate it. I really, really do.”

“I just, you know. Care about you. You know?”

And Alvaro sounded so touched when he replied that Paulo could _hear_ the smile on his face. “I know.”

\------

Just one day before the competition started, it was Alvaro’s seventeenth birthday.

He woke up to a text from his family, some from his cousins and friends, and three from Paulo.

_I don’t know if you’re asleep, but it’s midnight in Spain so happy birthday!_

_And now it’s midnight in Nigeria so happy birthday again._

_Last one, I promise. Midnight in Argentina. Happy birthday, Alvi. Take care._

The team had been told to get enough rest, and the previous day’s training had been so intense that Alvaro fell asleep almost instantly after his head hit the pillow. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve stayed until midnight, like he usually did on his birthday.

But he had to admit he liked waking up to Paulo’s texts.

He dialled Paulo’s number, hoping to talk to him in the short period of free time he had before breakfast. It was sort of a rest day for them, so maybe he could even spend the day talking to Paulo, if his teammates weren’t too pesky.

There was a loud crash after Paulo picked up the call, like his phone had fallen to the floor. Alvaro heard Paulo groan loudly, and then a sharp rattle as he probably reached over to scoop his phone off the ground.

“Forgot about the time zones again?” he growled when he finally got his phone.

Alvaro paused. “Sorry,” he said softly.

“Yeah, what is it?” Paulo asked.

“Just, uh,” Alvaro scratched the back of his head. “Wanted to thank you for your messages.”

There was a pause, this time from Paulo’s end, like he was trying to recall what messages. “Oh,” he finally said, sounding more awake. “Yeah. Happy birthday again.”

He sounded a little angry. Or maybe tired would have fit the circumstances better. But he sounded like he didn’t want to talk, so Alvaro said, “Sorry for calling so early. I’ll, uh, hang up so you can go back to sleep.”

But before Alvaro could hang up, Paulo said, “No, wait. I wanna spend your birthday with you.”

It made Alvaro smile this huge goofy smile which he had to rush to hide in fear of Isco seeing it. “I wanna spend my birthday with you, too,” he whispered.

Paulo didn’t reply, and Alvaro spent the next three minutes sitting there wondering if he’d said it too softly. And then the next two wondering if Paulo had fallen asleep. He realised that he didn’t even mind spending his birthday like this, with Paulo, not even talking. Just knowing that Paulo was there.

“So, uh, what time do you have to go?” Paulo finally said.

“Once Isco’s done with his shower, I guess.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He really was. It was a surreal experience, his first international tournament. Hopefully the first of many more. “Wish you were here.”

Paulo laughed. “I’m too young.”

“I know, you’re a baby.”

“Fuck off.”

But what Paulo didn’t know then was that Alvaro wasn’t wishing he was physically _there_ in Nigeria. He was wishing that Paulo and he could be together, like normal best friends, side by side. But instead he had to be all the way on the other side of the world, and Alvaro couldn’t even listen to his dumb voice first thing in the morning without prying him from his peaceful sleep. He couldn’t call and ramble about the ridiculous dream he just had. There was no proper time of day that they could both share.

But there was one thing he knew – and it was that if Paulo called him when it was 3am where Alvaro was, Alvaro would be up in a jiffy. There was no possible reason he wouldn’t be, because whenever he had the chance to talk to his best friend, he would.

He was greatly relieved to know that Paulo would do the same.

So he left the call on, brushing off the thought that he’d probably get in trouble for overshooting his Skype minutes. He carried Paulo in his pocket for the rest of the day, plugging in his earphones whenever he had some free time and listening to Paulo comment on whatever had just happened. Paulo was there when Alvaro’s coach wished him a happy birthday. He was there when the team surprised Alvaro with a cake during breakfast.

He was there throughout the entirety of Alvaro’s birthday, though noticeably much sleepier towards the end. He said he didn’t have classes, and it might have been a lie but Alvaro didn’t care. He felt like Paulo was there beside him again.

It was the best birthday Alvaro had ever had.

\------

Paulo spent most of his free time tracking the U-17 World Cup.

Not just the news about the ongoing violence, because okay, he was a pessimist, but in his own defense he wouldn’t have been so concerned if Alvaro hadn’t been participating.

Alvaro finally started Spain’s third game against Malawi. He scored two goals, and Paulo watched from the shared TV in the hostel lounge and stuffed his fist into his mouth both times because he wanted to scream but couldn’t. Argentina had lost the previous day and literally everyone else was in a sour mood.

He called Alvaro after the game and said, “Alvi, you were super great.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, and he sounded eager and breathless and so _exhilarated_.

“You’re gonna go places.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro said. “Argentina played great. I watched the match. I’m sorry you lost.”

“At least we’re through,” Paulo smiled.

“We?” Alvaro asked.

“I’m Argentine, Alvaro,” Paulo said. It was true he hadn’t made up his mind about the whole national team thing, but he’d grown up in Argentina and he would always be Argentine.

“Yeah, and also like, one-third Italian and one-fifth Polish and who knows, maybe even ten percent Japanese or whatever.”

“Shut up,” Paulo laughed. “Anyway, go have a good rest. You deserve it.”

Alvaro gave a loud yawn. “I wish you were Spanish so I could play with you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said softly. The other end went quiet and he thought maybe Alvaro had fallen asleep. “I wish I was, too.”

\------

Alvaro didn’t play a single minute when Spain overcame Uruguay on penalties, but he celebrated it with Paulo, anyway.

He played the last twenty-five minutes of Spain’s loss to hosts Nigeria, and he hid under the covers to cry to Paulo over the phone.

And when he played for twenty-five minutes again and this time secured his bronze medal after winning the third-place match against Colombia, Alvaro immediately called Paulo and told him, “Happy birthday. The twenty-five minutes I played were for you.”

Paulo gave a little chuckle. “Yeah? Really?”

“Of course,” Alvaro smiled. “You’ve been with me since the start.”

“Your family has been with you since the start, too, Alvi.”

Okay, so that was true. His family had always been there for him. But one thing was different now.

“You’re my family, Paulo,” he whispered.

Paulo didn’t respond but to give a soft little giggle. There were beginning to be more of these silences between them, and Alvaro sometimes worried if they were running out of things to talk about. But these silences were comfortable instead of awkward, and Alvaro found himself revelling in them; in the familiarity and the security of Paulo being right there. The closest they could manage to be to each other.

Alvaro felt a twinge of guilt because Paulo had spent the entire of Alvaro’s birthday with him but all Alvaro could offer him was a lame twenty-five minutes in which he didn’t even do anything significant.

“Paulo,” he said.

“Yeah?” Paulo said softly. It sounded like he was sleepy, which couldn’t be true because it was like, three in the afternoon where he was. Alvaro guessed maybe he was just tired. Or thinking. Paulo thought about things a lot. Sometimes he’d ask Alvaro questions Alvaro couldn’t answer. Like if Alvaro thought heaven existed.

“Thank you.”

Paulo scoffed. “What’re you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said truthfully. “Just, everything.”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

And the twinge of guilt turned into something else. An emptiness. An ache. And Alvaro wasn’t exactly sure what it was but he had a vague idea that it had something to do with the fact that Paulo wasn’t by his side.


	8. Would You Take The Wheel If I Lose Control?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you all so so much for all your wonderful comments. I really appreciate them so much and they keep me going to finish writing this story. I'm so sorry I'm so boring and have run out of ways to reply you except thank you, so...just thank you, really!! I am honestly so touched and happy that you guys are enjoying it so far, thank you so so much! :') 
> 
> Title is from Take Me Home by Jess Glynne.

The rest of the year passed in a flash.

Paulo was immensely relieved when Alvaro was finally back in Madrid and the tournament had completely avoided all the violence that was going on. Not that it was a good thing that there was _still_ violence, but at least Alvaro didn’t have to be there for it.

When 2010 rolled around Alvaro got pretty excited because at the end of summer he’d be eligible for Castilla. He felt like 2010 was going to be a great year.

And that thought was given a great boost when he went into the city for a half-celebratory, half-oh-I-can’t-believe-winter-break-is-over dinner with the boys from Real Madrid – and met Sofia.

Sofia was one of Dani’s friends who’d come to say hi when she spotted him across the diner. She was tall and brunette and absolutely _gorgeous_. Alvaro did some digging on Dani’s side and found out that she was only a couple of months younger than Alvaro.

“Interested, huh?” Dani clapped him on the back, and man, Alvaro would’ve been lying if he’d said no. “Too bad for you, she’s got a long line of boys queueing for her affection.”

That didn’t deter Alvaro. After some incessant badgering he got Sofia’s number, and a week later they went on their first date. And a week after that, had their first kiss.

Sofia was Alvaro’s first girlfriend. It wasn’t that Alvaro hadn’t _been_ with girls before – just not in a real relationship. He remembered losing his first kiss to some girl behind a shed at someone’s fourteenth birthday party. It was gross, too much tongue and teeth and too clumsy for Alvaro to not cringe when he thought of it. But Sofia was different and Alvaro liked her, liked her smile and how she had asymmetrical dimples, two on one side and only one on the other. He liked her genuine laugh. She was the first girl that Alvaro thought he was going to give the world to.

But he made one mistake. Not with Sofia.

With Paulo.

“You’ve been missing a lot these few weeks,” Paulo said casually one day when Alvaro finally returned his call, like he didn’t actually care about Alvaro’s answer. Alvaro knew he cared – he was just pretending to be tough. Alvaro could imagine his forced look of nonchalance.

He gave a little huff at the image. “Just. Busy. You know?”

“Yeah. Season’s gonna heat up.”

It was silent. A thoughtful silence. Alvaro half thought Paulo could see through his lie. After all, they still talked every other day before the new year, even when the season was ongoing.

Alvaro hadn’t told Paulo about Sofia – he wasn’t sure why. He felt in some way that he should hide them both from each other. Like he was cheating on either of them. Which didn’t make sense, because Paulo was just his good friend.

“What else have you been up to?” Paulo finally asked.

“Uh,” Alvaro said. He was stuck. “Paulo, I gotta tell you something.”

“Yeah.”

“Before the season started,” Alvaro said carefully. “I went out to dinner with my teammates. And I met this girl.”

There was a loud whooshing sound, like Paulo had just sucked in a ton of air. Then there was nothing. Not a single squeak from Paulo. It was a different silence, an unnaturally silent silence. Alvaro swore he could hear the sound of his shedding hair falling on the ground.

But he continued anyway. “Her name is Sofia. I really, really like her.”

“So, uh,” Paulo finally spoke. “You guys dating?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“A couple months now.”

Paulo gave a harsh exhale. “And.”

“And?”

“And you never told me.”

Alvaro’s first thought was why. Why did he have to tell Paulo? But his second thought came crashing in almost immediately after: Of course Paulo deserved to know. Paulo was his best friend in the entire universe and he’d been calling and texting but Alvaro had been too busy with Sofia to respond to him.

Plus, Alvaro had always felt like Paulo was intricately connected to his love life. There was no particular reason, but Alvaro believed that those two nights jerking off side by side might be a culprit. And those two near-kisses. Maybe he and Paulo were a might-have-been. But fuck, he would never find out.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

“Is that what you’ve been so busy with?” Paulo said, his tone suddenly jovial. It sounded a little forced, honestly. “A girl?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He couldn’t not smile when he thought of Sofia. “She’s great.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. Now you gotta tell me everything about her.”

So Alvaro did, through the evening. Paulo laughed at the appropriate parts and cooed at others. Sometimes he teased Alvaro for being such a cheesy idiot. But at least he wasn’t mad. Or at least Alvaro thought he wasn’t mad.

“Send me a pic,” Paulo said before he hung up.

Alvaro didn’t. He forgot about it – or rather, he pretended to forget.

And Paulo never asked for it again. Which made Alvaro think that he maybe wasn’t that interested after all, and that he was just entertaining Alvaro. Letting Alvaro speak. Just like he always did.

A week later Alvaro changed his Facebook profile picture to one of him and Sofia.

Paulo liked the photo and left a heart-eyed emoticon in the comments.

Neither of them mentioned anything about it in their subsequent phone conversations. Alvaro wasn’t sure what to think of everything.

\------

It was just the beginning of spring when it happened.

Alvaro was jolted awake by his phone buzzing loudly on his bedside table. He took the call without looking at the screen, without even the slightest bit of curiosity about who was calling him in the dead of night.

Because who else could it be but Paulo?

But there was no sound on the other end, just some loud, heavy breathing. It sounded like Paulo but it also didn’t.

“Hello?” Alvaro finally said.

“Alvi,” Paulo said in a horrible slur, making it sound like ‘Awvi.’

Alvaro glanced at the clock on the table and did a haphazard mental calculation. It was around midnight where Paulo was.

“Are you drunk?” he asked. Was Paulo even _legal_? He was like, eight years old.

“I dunno.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said. And he’d never wished that he was by Paulo’s side more than he did in that very moment. “Hey. Are you alone? Are you at home?”

“Yeah,” was all Paulo said, which frustrated Alvaro because he didn’t know which question that answer was for.

“Paulo.”

“I’m in bed,” Paulo purred.

“Okay,” Alvaro said. He tried to calm down but he was suddenly too awake. And there was a loud wind howling outside which made Alvaro finally realise that it was _pouring_. So much for spring. He drilled his way back under his covers for warmth. “Paulo, what happened? Do you want to talk?”

“What happened?” Paulo repeated. He gave a bitter laugh that Alvaro had never heard from him before. “What _happened_? You happened, Alvaro.”

Alvaro hesitated. “Uh, what?”

“Did you feel it too?” Paulo asked. He sounded alert and awake and Alvaro wasn’t sure if he preferred that. “Those two times?”

Alvaro knew exactly which two times he was referring to. He knew precisely how he’d felt. And he also knew that he wouldn’t forget that feeling. Not now, not ever.

“Which two times?” he said instead, _foolishly_ , because suddenly Paulo was a screaming, crying mess, like some sort of monster had been unleashed by Alvaro.

“ _Which_ two times?” Paulo demanded. “Alvaro, fuck you. You know perfectly well which two times. They run through my head every single day like some broken record. I can’t get rid of them. I keep wondering if we could’ve been something, Alvaro, and you can’t deny that you have, too. You can’t deny that you almost kissed me that day on the train. You can’t deny that we both wanted it again, on my last night there. But we didn’t do it. And I always wonder, what if we had? Would things be the same, with me over here and you over there? And sometimes I’m glad that we’re just friends because I like it. I like just hanging out with you and talking about nothing. But I also like, maybe, I’d also like to have more. And then you went and got yourself Sofia, and, well. Fuck, Alvaro. I don’t even know. I feel like maybe this has all been one-sided all along and I’ve just been imagining things.”

There was a sudden loud clap of thunder that made Alvaro jump up in bed, like he’d been caught doing something illegal. Maybe it was his guilt speaking.

After a long silence, he spoke, “Paulo, you’re drunk.”

“I know,” Paulo sobbed. He was _sobbing_ and Alvaro had no idea what to do. “I know I’m drunk and I’ll probably regret it tomorrow morning. But I gotta say this, Alvi. I’ve been keeping it in for too long. And look, I wish that it didn’t have to be like this. We were perfectly fine as friends. Great, even. I don’t know when it started and frankly I don’t want to know. I just want things to go back to normal, okay? I don’t know where these feelings are coming from.”

And Alvaro wasn’t sure if Paulo was just so fucking drunk he’d lost his brains or if he was actually confessing his feelings for Alvaro. And okay, maybe he didn’t even want to know. Alvaro was a fucking coward and he knew it.

“I just need to know,” Paulo continued. “Did you feel it? Like, like maybe we were going to kiss?”

Alvaro took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he finally said.

There was this sound that sounded halfway between a choke and a gasp. “And do you wish we had?”

“Yes,” Alvaro whispered. It was the truth and it had never felt better to say it. He hoped, though, that Paulo wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning. “I do. I wish the train had never braked suddenly and I wish that I had been brave enough on that last night. When you left for Argentina I felt like a piece of me had gone with you. It’s not one-sided, Paulo, fuck, I fucking _promise_ you.”

And Paulo was crying again, this loud ugly drunken sobbing that Alvaro could hear over the noise the rain was making on his window panes. And with all the lightning flashes and thunder and pelting raindrops, and Paulo fucking _bawling_ over the phone, Alvaro felt like he was in some kind of TV drama or whatever.

“So what are we?” Paulo finally asked, his voice thick probably both with tears and with drunkenness. “Friends? Jerk-off buddies? An almost-but-never-was?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro replied, and this time he was telling the truth. “I don’t even know what this is. I only know that you mean so, so much to me, Paulo, so much more than anybody else on this planet. I don’t want to lose you. Not in this way.”

“More than Sofia?” Paulo asked, and Alvaro forgave him because he was drunk. And because he was _Paulo_.

“Fuck you, I’m not answering that,” Alvaro said, and much to his delight, Paulo laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, and then went relatively silent save for his loud wheezing breaths.

“Hey, Paulo,” Alvaro said. “Look. I don’t want you to think that, like, Sofia is replacing you, okay? Because she’s not. You two are in different leagues. She will never replace you. So please don’t feel neglected or whatever because I fucking _adore you_ , Paulo, and I’d never give you up for anybody else.”

“Yeah?” Paulo gave a little giggle. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Now go get some sleep, okay? Will you do that?”

“I will.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Yeah. Please.”

So Alvaro did, and he told Paulo whatever that was happening on his side. He told Paulo about Marta, about his dad and mom. He told Paulo there was a tree outside his window that looked like it was going to attack Alvaro each time lightning flashed. He told Paulo about how his season was going.

He never once mentioned Sofia.

Paulo laughed and cried (Alvaro had no idea why, but he did) and cooed and yawned as he listened to Alvaro. He did all of those things until finally, when it was half past seven where Alvaro was, he fell asleep, informing Alvaro by his loud snoring.

Alvaro lay awake in bed, trying to make sense of everything that had been said.

\------

Alvaro received a call the next afternoon, Paulo’s way of replying to the concerned text he’d sent before he’d completely conked out at about noon.

“What happened?” Paulo asked. “Why’re you asking me if I’m okay?”

And Alvaro felt a wave of relief wash over him because _Paulo didn’t remember_.

“You don’t remember?” he asked anyway.

“Well, I was shit drunk. Did I do anything stupid?”

“I can’t give you a definite answer,” Alvaro teased. Although he wished he could. Maybe if he had been _there_.

“Well,” Paulo said. He paused. “I’m fine. A little achey, but fine.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said.

“Uh, I called you, right?” Paulo asked hesitantly. “What did I say?”

“Nothing much,” Alvaro lied. He was surprised at how easy it was – maybe because he knew it would protect the both of them, protect _Paulo,_ and that was enough for him to take any risk in the entire world. “But you wanted me to stay with you and talk to you so I did.”

“Thanks,” Paulo said quietly.

“Why did you get yourself so drunk?” Alvaro asked gently. He didn’t want to seem like some pushy big brother or whatever. Because ‘big brother’ he was, but ‘pushy’ he wasn’t. “You aren’t even legal. I checked.”

“I was, uh. Out with some older guys on the team. They get me drinks sometimes.”

“Do you usually drink so much?”

“No. I had something on my mind or whatever.”

“What was it?” Alvaro asked. Okay, so maybe he was treading into the ‘pushy’ territory. But he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know because if something was troubling Paulo, it’d trouble him too.

“I don’t remember. Which is good, right? I might feel like shit but at least it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He guessed it was worth it. He honestly didn’t know.

“Thanks, Alvaro,” Paulo said, and hung up.

Alvaro wondered if maybe he went out and got drunk, he’d forget it all, too.

\------

Paulo hadn’t forgotten what he’d been upset about.

But he couldn’t, for all the life in him, fucking _remember_ what happened on the phone with Alvaro.

He was deathly afraid that he’d blurted out about what had made him so upset. Which was, well, Alvaro himself. He was petrified that he’d gone and told Alvaro how he was feeling, how he was struggling to understand what was happening between them both. He didn’t want Alvaro to know he felt, well. He felt _jealous_ of Sofia, for some fucking reason. Which was fucking dumb, too, because Paulo didn’t like boys.

But that day, just as the weather was turning cool and autumn-y in Argentina, was the very first time Paulo started thinking about his sexuality.

He had never thought of himself being anything other than straight. Well, not that he’d ever properly kissed a girl, but. It was just like that. Paulo had never thought anything else. He was beginning to realise that maybe he just wasn’t that ‘default.’

God, this was all Alvaro’s fault.

Paulo didn’t know how, but it just was. He liked Alvaro very much and he thought maybe it was good that he was all the way in Spain because then Paulo could do nothing to build on these emerging feelings, or whatever they were. But he also thought it _wasn’t_ good, it was fucking horrible because then they were stuck in some sort of mindless tango, neither of them sure what the next step was supposed to be.

But okay, he was happy that Alvaro had Sofia, he guessed. As long as Alvaro was happy. Paulo hoped that the rest of the feelings that came along with it would eventually fade away. He hoped that maybe he could try to convince himself that he was jealous of Sofia because his best friend had less time for him now that he had her.

And he could vaguely remember Alvaro saying, in the gentlest voice, so softly that Paulo wasn’t sure if it was real, _“Please don’t feel neglected or whatever because I fucking adore you, Paulo, and I’d never give you up for anybody else.”_

And when he thought about it he felt simultaneously overjoyed and paranoid, because firstly, _Alvaro adored him_ and would _never give him up_. But then. If he’d really said that, then Paulo _must_ have said something about his feelings. And that was what made Paulo so worried he almost threw up again.

He spent the day draped over the toilet puking his hangover out. But he chose to focus on the good things. After all, he knew as long as he had Alvaro in his life, there would be plenty of good things.

\------

When summer came, Sofia told Alvaro she was going to accept an offer to study in the University of Berlin. She was taking the summer to get settled in Germany.

Alvaro let her. They did it for a while, two weeks into summer, her in Germany and Alvaro in Spain. Alvaro didn’t join her because he was only free to go a little later.

When his summer finally started, he broke up with Sofia.

He told her he wasn’t a person for long-distance relationships.

Which was bullshit, honestly, because that was exactly what he’d been doing, very successfully even, with Paulo, over five times the distance.


	9. It Started Out With A Kiss, How Did It End Up Like This?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Mr Brightside by The Killers.

That summer, Alvaro made the rashest, most impulsive decision in his entire life.

He convinced his entire family to go for vacation in Argentina. Where it was _winter_ , but that was besides the fucking point. The point was he wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it, just casually suggested it like, ‘hey, maybe Argentina would be a nice place to go,’ and whatever. But suddenly he was packed and standing at the door waiting for Marta to be ready, and he was _excited_.

Paulo’s reaction when Alvaro told him had been an ultra-long, confused pause.

And then, “What the fuck?”

“Are you not happy?” Alvaro had asked, trying not to sound too hurt although he _was_.

“No, I am, just,” Paulo had paused again. “Why?”

“Wanted to see my little brother again,” Alvaro had tried and failed not to put emphasis on ‘brother.’

And Paulo had laughed and called Alvaro a cheesy fucker, and then they’d both started planning about what Alvaro and his family were going to do there for two weeks. Seamlessly, like it wasn’t weird at all that Alvaro wanted to fly ten thousand kilometres just to see Paulo. And like Paulo didn’t even _mind_ , which in turn made Alvaro quite relieved, because at least Paulo didn’t think he was coming on too strong or whatever.

“So, uh,” Paulo had said at the end of the call. “Sofia coming?”

It’d been a week and a half since Alvaro broke it off with Sofia. She hadn’t come up in conversation with Paulo, though, and Alvaro was still trying to find a way to bring it up.

“Uh,” Alvaro cleared his throat. He hesitated. And he could feel the tension bubble up even over the phone and he thought, man, maybe it _had_ been for the best when he broke up with Sofia. “We’re not together anymore.”

Another pause. “What?”

“I broke up with her.”

“The Germany thing?” Paulo asked. “But Alvaro. You really like her.”

“I know,” Alvaro said. “I don’t know. Whatever. It’s…it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? When did this happen?”

Okay, _why_ was Paulo so concerned all of a sudden? It wasn’t like he even liked Sofia.

But then Alvaro realised it wasn’t because of Sofia. It was because of _him_.

“Like, a week ago, I guess,” Alvaro said dismissively. He didn’t like to think about it. Of the reason he told Sofia and the _real_ reason. “It’s really fine. She’s great and all, but I don’t think we’d have, uh. Worked out. I don’t know. It was fun but just…it’s not gonna be fun anymore if she isn’t here. And I always have you, yeah?”

Paulo paused again. There were so many of these pauses that Alvaro had run out of fingers to count them on.

“It’s different,” he finally said, and he’d sounded a little pained. Like he wanted it not to be.

Alvaro had shaken it off. He’d been getting better at doing that. The days flew past and they were finally on their way to the airport, and as Alvaro looked out the window counting the passing streetlights he was suddenly hit with a pang of déjà vu. The last time he had done exactly that, Paulo was squished in between him and Marta. Paulo had given his thigh an encouraging squeeze and gave a smile that set off feelings in Alvaro’s stomach that only Paulo could give him.

He closed his eyes and let his head roll against the glass. He basically couldn’t _wait_ until they were in Buenos Aires. Alvaro didn’t even want to think about how nervous he was to meet Paulo’s family. Though he was sure he had nothing to worry about because Paulo must’ve told them all about him already.

Alvaro finally passed out halfway through the thirteen-hour flight, curled up in his window seat, exhausted from all the overthinking he’d been doing.

\------

Paulo was waiting for him at arrivals, the very first face Alvaro saw when he walked through the glass doors, lugging both his and Marta’s suitcases. He looked exactly the same as he did the same time last year; the same face, the same eager green eyes, the same bright smile, and the same bush of hair.

He ran straight to Alvaro and pressed himself into Alvaro’s chest for a hug, and Alvaro was hit with a blast of simultaneous relief and sadness because fuck, he missed this feeling and he didn’t want to go back to Spain without Paulo. He wrapped his arms around Paulo and pressed his face into Paulo’s hair.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Alvaro,” was Paulo’s response. And that was enough, just that one word, the _way_ Paulo said it, for Alvaro to understand every single thing.

There wasn’t enough space at Paulo’s family’s small apartment in Buenos Aires for all of them so they were going to stay in a hotel, but Paulo had assured Alvaro that he had space if Alvaro wanted to sleep over. Paulo helped them all check in, and then took them all to meet his mom and brothers at a restaurant. Alvaro and Paulo were practically joined at the hip throughout.

Alvaro felt dumb for ever being nervous about meeting Paulo’s family. They were kind and friendly and warm just like Paulo was. They looked at Alvaro the same way they looked at Paulo. They treated Alvaro’s parents and sister like old friends. Like _family_. Everyone hit it off pretty well. Paulo and Alvaro sat at their corner of the table silently, just watching everyone exchange animated gestures.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Paulo said softly, but loud enough for Alvaro to hear over the chatter.

His body language sure told otherwise. His arms were crossed over his chest and not a single part of his body was touching Alvaro’s, even though the two families were squeezed so tightly around two tables they barely had room to breathe. It was almost strategic.

“I’m really glad I’m here, too,” Alvaro said, and he felt and he _saw_ Paulo immediately relax. He lifted an arm just as Paulo started to shimmy over, allowing Paulo to tuck himself underneath and lean on Alvaro’s shoulder. “Hey. I really missed you, Paulo.”

“Me, too.”

“You think you wanna stay over tonight?” Alvaro asked. When Paulo gave him a questioning look, he shrugged. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Paulo seemed to agree. He shot Alvaro a grateful smile and nodded, and Alvaro wasn’t sure what the horrible churning feeling in his stomach was but he hoped Paulo couldn’t feel it.

\------

The family suite at the hotel had private rooms for both Alvaro and Marta. Paulo happily joined Alvaro in his room when everyone bid their goodnights.

It didn’t bother him that there was no extra bed and he hadn’t brought his sleeping bag because he’d come from Córdoba with only a small duffel bag, which he dumped in the corner. He climbed into Alvaro’s bed like it was his own.

“Hey,” Alvaro protested, himself being shoved right to the very end. “This is my place.”

Paulo ignored him. He made himself comfortable, stretching his legs out. “So. How’ve you been?”

Alvaro shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” he said. “Can’t believe I’m actually here.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. He turned to Alvaro and saw that Alvaro was just gazing at him appreciatively. “Me, too.”

And though he really didn’t understand why Alvaro would come all the way to Argentina for his summer vacation, in that moment it suddenly didn’t matter. Suddenly _nothing_ mattered except for the fact that the both of them were reunited.

“So,” Paulo said again. “Germany, huh?” he asked, hoping Alvaro would get what – _who –_ he was referring to. He was _itching_ to ask about Sofia but Alvaro seemed to never bring her up.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He turned his gaze down to his lap, where his hands were. There was this unreadable expression on his face, some sort of nostalgic regret. “Berlin.”

“You okay about that?” Paulo asked. Alvaro shrugged again. “You know you can talk about her, right? You never talk to me about her. You can talk to me about anything.”

“But –“ Alvaro started, then changed tact, for some reason. It made Paulo feel uneasy, like Alvaro was trying to keep something from him. “Yeah, I know. I just, you know. Don’t know what to think about it all.”

“Don’t you even want to try?” Paulo asked. “Like, you don’t know it won’t work out for sure.”

“We did it for two weeks,” Alvaro said. Which was new information for Paulo. “I don’t like it. I don’t like the distance. It seems better to just let her go instead of us just, you know, hanging in the middle. It’s just…I think…so far. I mean, Germany isn’t that far, but. It also is. When it comes to, like, someone you really like and want to see every day.”

And Paulo’s heart fell and he was annoyed at what a fucking tattletale it was. Some selfish part of him thought no, that’s not it. Alvaro was letting Sofia go not because he liked her too much – it was because he _didn’t like her enough_ to make the effort. So Paulo couldn’t stop himself from saying, just to dig it out of Alvaro, “You’re still doing it with me, though.”

Alvaro turned and stared at him, and Paulo thought okay, so maybe next time he should think before he spoke.

“It’s different,” Alvaro said, a little reluctantly. Like he didn’t want it to be. There was a long, painful silence before he continued, “Paulo. Have you ever, you know. Fell for a girl? Had a girlfriend?”

And Paulo let out a snort because, like, “What do you think? I’ve never even fucking kissed a girl.”

Alvaro was gaping at him when he turned to his side. “Like, never ever?”

Paulo nodded shyly. “Well. I sorta wanted to one time but chickened out and kissed her cheek instead.”

“Fuck, Paulo,” Alvaro said. His gaze returned to his lap. “Maybe that’s why you don’t understand how difficult it can be. Because you haven’t yet found someone you like so much.”

Paulo watched as Alvaro silently fiddled with his fingers, unable to stop his gaze from wandering to Alvaro’s soft lips. Unable to stop himself from wondering what it’d be like to lose his first kiss to them – and he thought maybe he’d already found that someone.

\------

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Alvaro asked as Paulo unlocked the door to his room at the Instituto hostel.

“Pfft, why not?” Paulo said.

“There’s no one else here.”

“Everyone’s home for winter,” Paulo explained. “I just wanted to show you around.”

Alvaro dumped his bag on the ground. There were two beds in the room, which was pretty spacious, honestly. Paulo’s family had brought Alvaro’s family to Córdoba and Paulo insisted on showing Alvaro where he lived. He told Alvaro there’d be space for a sleepover. And well, he wasn’t wrong, given that there were literally only the two of them in the entire building, in Paulo’s room at the corner of the fourth storey. Alvaro wasn’t even sure if there were many people living there regularly.

Paulo showed him the common showers they had on top of the ones in each room. He brought Alvaro to the training pitch right behind his building (he had a view of it from his room) and to the dining hall.

They finally ended up in Paulo’s room again, and as Alvaro sat down on the extra bed Paulo said, “I know it’s nothing compared to what you have at Real Madrid, but –“

“It’s everything to you, isn’t it?” Alvaro interrupted with a smile. “That’s all that matters, Paulo. Not how big or fancy it is.”

His smile was reciprocated by Paulo a little more shyly and with a little grateful glint of the eye. Alvaro’s heart gave a little flip. “Yeah,” Paulo whispered as he sat next to Alvaro instead of on his own bed.

“Thanks for taking me around,” Alvaro added.

Paulo smiled again. He seemed really proud of this place – which was understandable, because he’d been living here for over a year. He was _sixteen_. It was essentially where he was growing up.

“So, uh,” Alvaro continued when Paulo said nothing. He patted the bed they were sitting on. “You got a roommate?”

Paulo shook his head. “There are too many empty rooms for anyone to want to share.”

“So why’d you choose a double room?”

“For the extra space,” Paulo said matter-of-factly, seemingly proud that he’d outsmarted everyone else, like the smug but practical boy that he was.

“That’s so you,” Alvaro chuckled.

And Paulo smiled at him again, happy and touched and so calmly grateful that Alvaro was there, and Alvaro’s heart gave another involuntary flip. He wasn’t sure how or why but the air in the room had changed. He was suddenly incredibly aware of how close Paulo was sitting, their thighs not touching but for the fabric of their trousers. He could feel the light weight of Paulo’s sweatpants on the side of his thigh. He felt the brush of Paulo’s sleeve against his arm as Paulo shifted but not away from him. He felt this heavy, tugging feeling, not a bad one, and not only at his heart but also on every part of his body, a feeling drawing him towards Paulo.

He shifted his gaze to see Paulo watching him intently, his green eyes dark and apparently focused on Alvaro’s lips before Alvaro met them. He didn’t turn away when Alvaro caught him; he’d become such a confident fucker around Alvaro and it both annoyed and aroused Alvaro, even though he’d very much not like to admit the latter.

Paulo’s tongue peeked out from between his lips, giving a quick swipe over his bottom lip. Alvaro blinked at the sight, his eyes staying closed for a beat longer than usual in an attempt to hold himself together. When he opened them again Paulo was still staring at him, his mouth dropping open a little, like he was waiting for it, for the exact same thing Alvaro was. The same thing Alvaro had been _wanting_ to do since a year ago.

And this time, Alvaro was brave enough to do it.

He leaned over the small space between them, placing his hand gently on Paulo’s jaw as Paulo’s eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

Paulo’s lips were warm and soft and they tasted like sweet liberation. They surrounded Alvaro’s lips with a quiet desperation, gentle and hesitant, because after all it was his _fucking first kiss_ , and Alvaro cupped the back of Paulo’s neck with his free hand and gently guided him closer. Paulo’s hands slowly slid their way up the front of Alvaro’s shirt and landed on his collarbones, at the base of his throat, just resting there gently like Paulo was about to push him away any moment.

Alvaro pulled away, half to catch his breath and half just to make sure Paulo was actually _okay_ with this. Paulo’s eyes snapped open warily, his lips still apart in a pant. Alvaro opened his mouth to say something but didn’t manage it, so instead just tilted his head to ask the question.

Paulo’s hands moved again, this time to grab Alvaro by the collar and pull him close, his lips now eager and confident against Alvaro’s. And fuck, Alvaro had to admit Paulo was a good kisser, even if it was only his first time.

“Did you lie about not kissing anyone?” Alvaro whispered.

“No,” was the reply, shy Paulo paying a brief visit before being replaced by bold Paulo again.

Alvaro slid his hand up into Paulo’s hair, combing through it and grabbing a handful in between his fingers. Paulo gave a little gasp, his breath hot and wet in Alvaro’s mouth, and _fuck_ , Alvaro _liked this_. He liked it more than he was willing to admit. He liked it so much he didn’t even stop to ask himself if it was all supposed to feel this easy. This _familiar_.

The pair struggled for control for a while, Alvaro claiming dominance most times because honestly, all Paulo could do was frantically run his hands up and down Alvaro’s back, trying and failing to get a grip on something, _anything_ , and he was just so _submissive_ to Alvaro that Alvaro almost found it easy to get Paulo to do exactly what he wanted.

Alvaro eventually found himself on top of Paulo, pinning him to the bed, the both of them breathing so loudly you’d think they’d just ran a thousand miles.

It was just _a kiss_. Alvaro never meant for it to end up like this. But he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying it – in fact, he was kinda jealous of Paulo because he looked like he was having such a great first kiss. As compared to Alvaro’s. The one he wanted to forget, the one that was hard and hot and wet in all the wrong ways. But _this one_ , this was hard and hot and wet in all the amazing ways Alvaro couldn’t even begin to describe.

He lowered his face and buried it in the crook of Paulo’s neck, tracing a line of nibbles down to the ridge between his collarbones. Paulo’s hand had a firm grip on the back of his head, his loud incoherent gasps sending gusts of air over it. Alvaro could feel how hard Paulo already was – first because Paulo was practically rubbing himself off on Alvaro’s thigh, and second because Paulo had flinched so hard he almost knocked Alvaro off him when Alvaro moved a hand to cup his erection.

“If anyone had told me I’d lose my first kiss _and_ my virginity on the same night I’d never have believed them,” Paulo muttered into Alvaro’s hair.

Alvaro sat up and removed his hand. “Uh,” he said. He could feel this intense, _embarrassing_ flush washing up from his neck to the top of his head. “You, uh. You want to – want this?”

“Fuck,” Paulo whispered, emphasising the ‘k.’ Alvaro’s cock gave a little twitch as he watched the movement of Paulo’s lips. “Fuck. Alvaro. You’re not gonna leave me like this.”

Alvaro didn’t _want_ to leave him like this. He wanted to hear Paulo make sounds he’d never heard before. He wanted Paulo’s breath, Paulo’s lips, Paulo’s _everything_ , all over him.

He grabbed hold of the waistband of Paulo’s sweatpants and yanked them off as Paulo sat up and attempted the same at Alvaro’s jeans. After a few minutes of clumsy fumbling their trousers were finally in a pile on the ground, and Alvaro was practically _salivating_ at the sight of Paulo’s dick straining against the fabric of his underwear, begging for Alvaro’s touch.

He climbed over Paulo again and pressed his lips against Paulo’s, soft and gentle, slowly working up a new rhythm. Paulo’s hands slid under Alvaro’s shirt and across the entire breadth of Alvaro’s back, causing Alvaro to rock against him, his dick seeking comfort against Paulo’s thigh as he gasped for breath against Paulo’s lips and cheeks and neck. It never once occurred to him that he was doing it to his _best friend_. It never once occurred to him that they had a perfectly fine friendship and now they were _having sex_.

“Come on,” he breathed as he tugged at Paulo’s shirt, and they had to pull apart briefly for it to be tugged over Paulo’s head.

Alvaro blindly reached downwards and slid his hand into Paulo’s underwear, and Paulo gave what seemed like a deafening moan when Alvaro got a grip of his dick. He would’ve been worried had there been anyone around, but it didn’t seem like it, so he just kissed the fuck out of Paulo and hoped he’d continue making more of those noises.

He’d never jerked anyone off, Alvaro, but he was fairly certain he had a good idea of what Paulo liked, from all the glances he’d snuck across when Paulo was jerking off. He stroked Paulo hard a few times before stopping at his head, thumbing the slit before teasing the area just underneath the head. Paulo gave a loud gurgle like he was about to choke to death, before letting it out in a loud exhale.

“Fuck,” he said, low and sharp and wet, and thrusted his hips off the bed into Alvaro’s hand.

Alvaro slid his other hand into his own underwear, wanting some of the satisfaction Paulo was so loudly getting. He hissed as he got a grip of his dick, and opened his eyes feverishly to see Paulo gazing at him, looking turned on and exhausted and eager all at once.

“Get over here,” he whispered, and as Alvaro obliged Paulo sat up and practically ripped Alvaro’s shirt off over his head, and yanked Alvaro’s underwear off with a sort of zest previously unseen. Then he kicked his own underwear off like it was some sort of insect, and took Alvaro’s rock hard dick in his hand like it was a piece of gold.

Alvaro ended up upside down with respect to Paulo, his face barely centimetres away from Paulo’s dick, continuing to pleasure incoherent jerks out of Paulo as Paulo did the same to him. Paulo, too, seemed to know _exactly_ what Alvaro liked – strokes that were quick and hard and strong, quite the opposite of what Paulo liked himself – and was doing a brilliant job at delivering it. Alvaro had to stop himself multiple times from bucking forward too hard and smacking Paulo in the face with his dick.

A long whine escaped from Paulo as Alvaro thumbed his slit again. He thrust his hips upwards weakly, fucking into Alvaro’s hand, his thigh muscles straining in an effort to keep himself still. Alvaro sat up, pulling his cock out of Paulo’s grasp and earning himself a soft whimper. But Paulo was satisfied once again when Alvaro settled between his legs, evidently because he had a _mighty fine view_ of Alvaro as he took his own dick in one hand and Paulo’s in the other.

Paulo watched fervently as Alvaro started stroking the both of them at the same time, his two hands coordinating in a way that even Alvaro himself had never seen before. Paulo arched his back off the bed, his own hands again flailing to find something to grab on to. But before they could, Alvaro tightened his grip, curling his fingers closer together, and gave Paulo one last firm stroke, teasing the tip with his fingers.

And Paulo quite literally _exploded_ all over the both of them, majority of it landing on Alvaro’s hand as he continued to coax the remainder of Paulo’s orgasm out of him. Paulo’s groan subsided into a low whine, his hips stuttering as he rode it out, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, eyes squeezed shut. Alvaro gulped in an attempt to get rid of the arousal pooling low in his belly – he wanted it, too. He wanted what Paulo was having.

As the last drops of milky liquid spilled over on Paulo’s belly, Alvaro finally tore his gaze away from Paulo’s dick only to see Paulo squinting at him, like it would hurt him to open his eyes. Despite that, he managed to crack a little smile for Alvaro, stretching his arms out and making grabby hands towards the general direction of Alvaro’s dick.

Alvaro clambered up and sat on Paulo’s belly, trying to ignore the stickiness under him and how fucking _arousing_ it was to rub his length along it, smearing Paulo’s come all over him. Paulo spent no time hesitating at all – although he looked exhausted as fuck he immediately grabbed Alvaro’s cock and restarted the ritual, strong and fast and almost violent, causing Alvaro to lean backward with a loud gasp because _man_ , he was so up for this.

Painful sounds escaped from Alvaro’s mouth as Paulo worked him. Alvaro was gasping for air, clawing at Paulo’s chest, biting down on his own lip so hard it probably hurt; he was doing a million things at once but somehow didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel anything except a pool of warmth where Paulo was touching him, a sensation that rippled through his body in waves, messy but somehow coherent. He didn’t feel anything except for Paulo’s determined hand practically _pounding_ his shaft, exactly the way Alvaro would have done so himself.

Paulo’s hair was wildly plastered all over his forehead in clumps and instinctively Alvaro reached over and swept it back on his head. Paulo trapped his lower lip under his teeth as he met Alvaro’s eyes, the dark pools of green intently observing Alvaro’s every expression, his every emotion.

A shudder almost ripped Alvaro apart as he recalled the feeling of his lips trapped between Paulo’s; how warm and soft they were, how familiar it felt. He wanted it again, _God_ , he wanted it like, a thousand more times – but he was suddenly hit with the realisation that this whole thing, whatever they were doing, it was probably a horrible idea. It was probably only going to happen once, this time, and Alvaro was never going to get to kiss Paulo ever again.

Spurred on by that thought, on top of how fucking _impulsive_ he was, Alvaro dropped his body over Paulo’s, pressing their lips together, both their breaths and gasps and throaty moans combining flawlessly into one. Momentarily distracted, Paulo slackened his grip on Alvaro’s dick – only to start off again when Alvaro gave an impatient thrust.

Alvaro took it all in, he took everything Paulo was willing to give him with his fingers and his lips and his tongue. He took it all like a drug his life depended on. His lips were still on Paulo’s as he came, a sputtering, groaning, gasping, cursing mess, shaking like he was actually lying outside in the winter instead of working up a sweat with his best buddy Paulo. Paulo wrenched his hand out from between them as Alvaro managed a peek at the white mess plastering their abdomens together.

Neither of them said a word as Alvaro climbed off with a soft groan and lay on his back in the small space left on the bed between Paulo and the wall. Their chests heaved in unison as they tried to catch their breaths, and Alvaro closed his eyes, trying to stop his fucking heart from flying out of his chest. He enjoyed that more than he’d expected. Actually, he didn’t even know what he was expecting.

When he opened his eyes he found Paulo staring at him with a wild look in his eyes, dazed and confused and so _thoroughly afraid_.

“Did we just,” Paulo started, then made a vague gesture with his clean hand. “Just?”

Alvaro wished he could sink into the ground, but he couldn’t, so instead he just sunk his head as far into the pillow as he could manage. “Fuck,” he said, frustrated.

Paulo snorted at the answer. “I guess you could put it like that,” he said, with a smirk on his face that told Alvaro he knew that wasn’t what Alvaro meant but wanted to tease him anyway. He leaned over and grabbed a handful of bedsheets to clean his hand and his tummy.

“Those are _my sheets_ ,” Alvaro whined lazily.

“Oops,” Paulo said, completely unapologetic. He picked up his own t-shirt and used it instead.

“So,” Alvaro said. The air had suddenly turned tense with the silence from Paulo. “Um.”

“You’re a great kisser,” Paulo said to break the tension.

Alvaro turned and stared at him. A smile slowly broke out on Paulo’s face and Alvaro smacked him on the shoulder. “Fuck you, have you been watching me jerk off?”

“Like you can say you haven’t been watching me?”

Alvaro sighed. All their mad skills on each other’s dicks were giveaways. “Fine. So. You know. What does this,” he made the same vague gesture Paulo had made earlier. “This mean?”

Paulo turned to face the ceiling, and it was his turn to sink into the pillow. He didn’t say a single word, and neither did Alvaro, because honestly he didn’t know what he could possibly say. This entire situation was just fucked up. Alvaro knew it was dangerous, especially after listening to Paulo’s drunken confessions. He knew it was but somehow, he was glad that it happened.

After eons of silence Paulo finally spoke. “Alvi. Is it different?” he asked. “Like. When you do it with girls or when…uh, when you did it with me.”

Alvaro blinked at him. That was a ridiculous question because, like, “Uh. I’ve never, you know. Had sex.”

Paulo sat up so quickly Alvaro was surprised he didn’t get dizzy. “Holy fuck,” he said. “So you’re a…”

Alvaro gave a curt nod.

“And we –“

Alvaro nodded again.

“Fuck.”

“Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Alvaro said. “I mean, if you don’t want it to. The concept of virginity is a social construct, or whatever they say. We just jerked each other off and that. That doesn’t have to mean anything, yeah?”

Paulo gave that a thought. “Yeah,” he said softly. “So…we’re still. We’re still us?”

“Of course,” Alvaro gave him a friendly punch. “Just…helping each other out.”

“You fucking stole my first kiss,” Paulo said, looking wounded.

“Fuck you, look me in the eye and say you didn’t like it.”

And Paulo couldn’t, of course, so he settled with gently boxing Alvaro on the cheek. Which was a horrible idea because it escalated into another wrestling match, the both of them completely naked and sweaty and sticky but pretending that it actually wasn’t really gross.

Paulo eventually landed on his butt on the ground next to the bed, laughing his head off stupidly, and suddenly everything was back to normal.

“Dibs on the shower,” Alvaro said as he dragged himself out of bed, throwing the covers over Paulo, who’d decided that lying naked on the ground was a good idea. All he did was give a little chuckle, and Alvaro was willing to bet all four limbs that he’d be asleep by the time Alvaro was done showering.

It was only when the almost scalding water of the shower hit Alvaro did reality hit him too – Paulo wasn’t the only one feeling the way he did in this relationship. Alvaro felt that way, too. It had been doubly, triply, _quadruply_ confirmed as the night had unfolded, and he couldn’t ignore the nagging voice at the back of his head saying ‘ _it wouldn’t have felt so good if you didn’t love him’_ any longer.

And Paulo didn’t know that.

Paulo made no moves. Paulo was perfectly okay with just being friends.

Alvaro sighed. He didn’t understand the self-control Paulo had. But he guessed maybe it was for the best. He guessed if things were up to him, they’d be completely fucked up by then.

He wished he could google the answer for _‘how to make things work when you’re in love with your best friend but live ten thousand kilometres apart.’_ He wished life was that simple.


	10. 'Cause I'll Never Be With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from You're Beautiful by James Blunt.

Alvaro felt like he was dying an excruciatingly slow death.

He managed to survive the remainder of the two weeks in Argentina pretending everything was okay. It was almost easy, really – all he did was mirror Paulo’s behaviour. When they touched thighs again under the table and Paulo didn’t pull away, Alvaro thought maybe things were going somewhere. When he pulled Paulo in for a friendly hug and Paulo kissed the side of his neck, he held himself together enough to smile and use his lips to brush the top of Paulo’s ear despite his pounding heart sounding like an ocean in his ears. Despite the fear and confusion and _desire_ threatening to eat him up from the inside.

But towards the end of the trip it became more and more evident that nothing else was going to happen between them. Nothing else _could_ happen between them. Not when they were going to be separated by the Atlantic once again.

Alvaro groaned when he woke up on their last day in Argentina and found a weight on his legs that was none other than Paulo, who was using them as a bolster. Strangely enough, the bed didn’t feel tight even with Paulo sleeping together with him.

A brief _maybe best friends shouldn’t be behaving this way_ crossed Alvaro’s mind, but he brushed it aside. He was getting better at that.

He gently nudged Paulo’s face with his knee, unintentionally causing him to jolt awake with a loud sound, a mix of a groan and a gasp. Paulo hastily wiped at the little sliver of drool that had accumulated at the corner of his lips.

“Wha?” he managed.

“I gotta pack,” Alvaro almost spat out the words. He didn’t want to pack. He didn’t want to leave.

Paulo let go of Alvaro’s legs but continued laying there, upside down on the bed. Alvaro dragged out his suitcase and began dumping all his clothes in it.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Paulo suddenly called out from the bed. He sounded more awake than Alvaro had expected him to be.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, his voice breaking at the end of the word. “Me, too.”

Paulo rolled around and gazed at Alvaro, his eyes shimmering with sleep and reluctance. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Alvaro turned back to his messy luggage and smiled down at it in a desperate attempt to avoid Paulo’s intense eyes. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, Dybala.”

“I don’t even know why you wanted to come over here,” Paulo said quietly.

The weight of that statement was so much more than the words it contained. Alvaro had to literally stop everything for a moment, even his thoughts; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, just so he wouldn’t walk over and kiss Paulo again.

Paulo was still staring at him when he opened his eyes. “I really wanted to see you again,” Alvaro said.

The sides of Paulo’s lips twitched upwards just the slightest, an indication that maybe he accepted that answer. And Alvaro had to fight the urge again, the urge to walk over and grab Paulo and kiss him and tell him the entire truth. To tell him that Alvaro knew, Alvaro knew how he was feeling and he felt the same way, and tell him he was sorry he was so selfish, he was sorry he lied.

But he looked down at his suitcase and realised that it would never work out. They were both boys with the same dream which would possibly be shattered before it even begun, if this happened. There was no way Paulo could move to Spain or Alvaro to Argentina at will. Not at this age. And Alvaro wasn’t sure if he could live with a relationship like this. Fuck, Alvaro wasn’t even sure if these feelings were real or if his mind was just playing tricks on him.

Paulo suddenly appeared next to him, interrupting his thoughts. “Hey. I’m really glad you came. I hope you don’t think any other way.”

Alvaro smiled. “I don’t.”

And then Paulo reached over and wrapped Alvaro in a tight hug, and Alvaro thought: maybe he could live with this. Maybe it was time for him to grow up and do what was right for the both of them, even though it hurt. Because he knew Paulo was his best friend in this entire universe and he would rather have that than have nothing at all.

So he ruffled Paulo’s lion head and said, “I hope things aren’t weird.”

Paulo shook his head into Alvaro’s chest. “Never.”

“Bet you had a good time, huh?”

And the joke worked, because Paulo pulled away from the hug and punched Alvaro in the chest playfully. “Bet you did, too.”

It was silent again as Paulo helped Alvaro to pack, nicely folding the clothes that Alvaro had so carelessly dumped in the bag. They worked in comfortable silence, Alvaro tossing and Paulo folding, and just an hour later they were already done.

They hung around until the rest of the family was ready and it was time to go. Alvaro’s parents took a cab with Marta and Alvaro shared one with Paulo because he was so insistent on sending them off at the airport.

It was almost déjà vu again as the both of them sat in the back of the cab, Alvaro near the window and Paulo right smack in the middle even though he could’ve been at the other window looking out. He placed his hand gently on Alvaro’s thigh and gave a little squeeze, and when Alvaro turned to him he was smiling the gentlest smile, the same old Paulo smile, and Alvaro’s entire world crashed on him at once. How could it be so _normal_ for Paulo? How could he act like he never meant, never _said_ all those words he did that night when he was drunk?

Alvaro really admired Paulo. But at the same time he also despised Paulo for handling life the way he did, calmly and rationally and way too maturely for a sixteen-year-old. Part of him just wanted to dive head-first into this, regardless of the consequences.

He guessed maybe that would’ve made him and Paulo a great couple – the fact that they were opposites when it came to common sense.

But it would never have happened, so he mustered a weak upward curl of the lips in response to Paulo.

After saying their goodbyes Alvaro made his parents and Marta head into departures first, while he had his last few minutes alone with Paulo. Paulo was _still_ smiling when Alvaro turned to him.

“Something wrong with your face?” Alvaro asked, because how could he not tease Paulo one last time before he left?

Paulo just shook his head and silently tucked himself into Alvaro’s arms, gently nudging his face into the middle of Alvaro’s chest. Alvaro gently combed through Paulo’s – still unruly – hair with his fingers; he almost told Paulo everything, again, right there and then. He almost told Paulo everything and he almost kissed Paulo even though they were in the middle of a crowded airport and Alvaro’s family was probably watching.

But he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t brave enough. But he liked to tell himself that it was because he was learning to be sensible like Paulo.

“I hate saying goodbye to you,” Paulo finally said.

The _‘it’s harder than saying it to anyone else’_ was silent, but Alvaro heard it.

“It’s not goodbye,” Alvaro whispered. “I promise. Just like last year.”

“Nothing’s gonna change, yeah?” Paulo asked, like he was seeking the same answers Alvaro was.

“Nothing,” Alvaro assured him. The scent of Paulo’s shampoo was slowly wafting into his nose and _God_ , Alvaro swore he had never been closer to tears than he was in that moment.

“Well then,” Paulo said softly, and pulled away from the hug only to dive in for another one, this time tiptoeing a little to wrap his arms around Alvaro’s neck instead. His lips brushed softly against Alvaro’s cheek and Alvaro’s heart did a triple flip. “Take care of yourself.”

“You, too,” Alvaro said. He pressed his lips straightforwardly on Paulo’s cheek, deciding that he was going to let himself indulge in at least that. “Bye, Paulo. You’ll always be my best friend in this entire world, don’t you ever dare forget that.”

Paulo pulled away and smiled widely at Alvaro. “I hope you don’t forget that you’re mine, too.”

“Never,” Alvaro said. He held Paulo by his shoulders and examined him from top to toe one final time. “See you soon, yeah?”

“Bye, Alvi.”

And that was it.

Alvaro walked backwards almost all the way through departures, keeping his eyes on Paulo, the lonely figure in the sea of parting families. He sought the minutest of solace from the fact that it was already too late to change his mind about coming clean to Paulo.

Marta gave him a weird stare when he finally walked normally again after losing sight of Paulo. He ignored her. He ignored his entire family, in fact, and curled up in his window seat again, falling into a disturbed sleep.

\------

Marta called Paulo before Alvaro did.

“What did you do to my brother?” she demanded.

“What…did I do?” Paulo asked, confused.

“He’s been so moody since we left you,” Marta said. “He’s been lazing around in bed all day. He even skipped his training session. He never does that.”

“Is it, uh, jet lag or something?” Paulo offered. It’d been five days since Alvaro left, and Paulo didn’t know how long Alvaro took to finish nursing his jet lag. But even so, missing training sessions was terribly uncharacteristic of Alvaro.

“Well, I’m standing here yelling at you, aren’t I?” Marta said. “Everyone’s up and going except him. Something’s up with him and I need you to tell me why.”

“But I don’t know?” Paulo said weakly. He had a feeling maybe he did.

Marta sighed. “Just. Call him or something. Okay?”

So Paulo did. And he never thought he would regret anything that much.

Alvaro finally answered his call on the third try. And even then it was only after the phone had been ringing for over twenty seconds.

“Hey,” Paulo said. “How’s everything?”

There was a long silence, like Alvaro was thinking of an answer or he was just trying to pull himself together. “Uh, great. Yeah.”

“Alvaro.”

“What?”

“Are you okay? Tell me the truth.”

Alvaro gave a long, hard sigh. Then another one.

“I will be,” he finally said.

“What happened?” Paulo prodded. “Are you still jet lagged? Did something happen?”

Then Alvaro said, in a voice so soft that Paulo almost missed it, “ _You_ happened, Paulo.”

And then it happened. Like a herculean gust of wind had suddenly knocked Paulo on his butt. It came back, word by word, scene by scene, like Paulo was watching a play in which he was the lead. Drunk-dialling Alvaro, crying about how he felt. Crying to _Alvaro_ about how he felt _about Alvaro_. _You happened, Alvaro._

Calling Alvaro the next day and having Alvaro tell him, _lie to him_ , that he hadn’t said anything.

All this time Paulo had believed that he hadn’t said anything. He’d gone and acted so normally because he thought his feelings for Alvaro were his alone and no one else’s. He thought Alvaro would never know because he would never tell him. But it turned out all this while Alvaro already knew, and _God_ , Paulo had never felt more humiliated, more _stupid_ in his entire life.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Paulo said shakily.

“Paulo. Look. I don’t –“

“No, fuck, Alvaro,” Paulo said. He was suddenly _really angry_ , fucking _furious_ at how Alvaro could have kept this from him. How they could have done all they did in his room at the hostel without Alvaro feeling at least a twinge of guilt that he was lying to Paulo. How Paulo thought the way his heart had pounded so hard for at least three hours after that was fucking _abnormal_ and how he kept pinching himself to fight the urge to come clean to Alvaro about his actual feelings. “You lied to me. Do you know how…how _humiliating_ this is? You told me I didn’t say anything much. How is this not much? It’s not? It’s not much to you, how I feel about you?”

“No, Pau,” Alvaro said, and Paulo was too fucking distraught to actually notice that Alvaro had shortened his name. “No. It is. I just. I don’t know how to feel about this.”

“I’m sorry it disgusts you so much that your best friend is gay for you,” Paulo said sarcastically.

There was a sharp intake of breath on Alvaro’s side, then silence. Complete silence. Paulo almost hung up the phone, but a minute later Alvaro spoke again.

“You…” he started awkwardly, like he didn’t know how to not sound judgemental about Paulo’s sexuality. “You’re…”

“I don’t know, okay, fuck!” Paulo exclaimed. He was legitimately _crying_ and he didn’t know what to do or say or _feel_.

“Paulo. Okay. Okay,” Alvaro said, he sounded less calm and more of how frantic Paulo was feeling right then. “Okay. Listen to me. I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t know what to do, okay, hearing all the things that you said. I was happy you forgot because I thought we wouldn’t have to go through it again, but. But I guess I was wrong and I’m sorry. And…and, you know, do you remember? What I said to you?”

Paulo closed his eyes. He was getting dizzy with all the thoughts, with all the words that were just now coming back to him. He did. He remembered everything Alvaro had said. _It’s not one sided, Paulo, fuck, I fucking promise you._

“Yes,” Paulo whispered.

“So why do you think I’m disgusted?”

Paulo went silent. He was so utterly overwhelmed by everything, by the revelation that everything over the past three months had been a huge lie. That he’d been foolishly acting like nothing had happened when Alvaro already _knew_. He had never been more embarrassed in his entire life.

“I just,” Paulo finally started, but had to stop to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his loud sob. “I just don’t understand. Why you’d keep it from me and…and still, you know. Do that with me. In my room. I don’t understand how you can act like everything is okay.”

Alvaro gave a sad little chuckle. “I don’t understand how you act like everything is normal, either.”

And then Paulo realised he _had_ been acting like nothing had happened, too. Like his feelings hadn’t been trying to eat him alive. Maybe that was why Alvaro had been acting that way – because it seemed like Paulo didn’t mean it at all. Even though he ached for it every single day, he ached for Alvaro’s concern and Alvaro’s touch and Alvaro’s lips, all over his body again.

“I had no idea you knew,” Paulo said. “And…and I wanted it to stay that way. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, hey,” Alvaro said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. I just, you know. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know what I _wanted_ to happen. I…Paulo. Leaving you this time was so different. And I wish it wasn’t, but at the same time I’m happy, you know? I’m happy that…that I have you. In any way that I can. And I just think that…that maybe it’s better this way. Because nothing can ever come out of us if we want to continue chasing our dreams. And fuck, Paulo, we’re like, a thousand miles apart, I don’t even fucking know. I just. I hope you understand.”

 _It’s not that I don’t want you_. Paulo heard it even though Alvaro didn’t say it. Alvaro was trying to let Paulo down in the gentlest way possible and Paulo fucking appreciated the hell out of him, really. And everything Alvaro was saying was true. They could either have football or a relationship, but not both; and honestly, as long as Paulo had Alvaro around, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered, for if he spoke any louder he would burst into loud ugly sobs. “Alvaro. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly, and then there was soft rustling like he was sitting up in bed. “Don’t be. You never have to be sorry about yourself. Okay?”

Paulo gulped down his tears and nodded before realising that Alvaro couldn’t see him. “Mhmm,” he managed.

“And uh,” Alvaro paused. “I just want you to know. I don’t regret it. What happened between us, I don’t regret it, okay?”

“Me neither,” Paulo whispered, because _God_ , did he enjoy it. “I…I really liked it.”

Alvaro laughed gently, and Paulo wished he was there so he could hug the fuck out of Alvaro. He wished he was everywhere Alvaro was. But he thought maybe with this distance, things would work themselves out eventually. Maybe this was the direction they were meant to be headed in.

“I’m sorry things have to be this way,” Paulo added.

“What did I say about being sorry?”

“Yeah. Okay. Sor– I mean. Uh. Never mind.”

Alvaro burst into deafening laughter, which made Paulo do the same; and he was amazed yet again at how simply things could be fixed as long as Alvaro was there. “Fuck you, man,” he said anyway.

“Ouch,” Alvaro said sarcastically. “Hey. You already did.”

And then he laughed again, that dumb idiot, and Paulo could imagine him literally rolling around his bed in glee, which he couldn’t help but smile at. And then seconds later, dissolve into giggles at.

“I hate you so much,” he finally managed to choke. He loved this and he missed this, this carefree laughter between him and Alvaro without any strings attached or any dark clouds hanging above their heads. He loved it.

Alvaro laughed some more, and then finally stopped as they phased into comfortable silence again.

“Paulo,” he finally said. “Uh. Are you really? Like…uh, gay.”

Paulo sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Because you haven’t been with a girl?” Alvaro asked. “Go out and get some. Maybe then you’ll know.”

“I don’t know,” Paulo said again. “I’ve never…thought about it, you know?”

“Me neither,” Alvaro said thoughtfully. Paulo couldn’t help but think maybe he’d come along and ruined everything. “But hey. If you wanna talk about it, need someone to throw ideas at, or whatever. I’m here, okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. He was suddenly filled with hope that maybe this, too, would pass. Maybe once he got his life on track, maybe met a nice girl. Or a nice boy. Maybe if he talked to Alvaro about it, it would feel more normal. Maybe that way, he could forget all about this silly crush. “Thanks, Alvi.”

“Thank _you_ , Pau.”

“You gonna call me Pau now?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. Didn’t even ask if Paulo liked it. Which was okay, because Paulo did.

“You have no idea how glad I am to have you.”

“I do,” Alvaro said softly, and when Paulo closed his eyes he could see him smile. “Trust me, I do.”

“Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“We okay?”

“Of course,” Alvaro said without missing a beat. “My best friend. My little minx. My little fucker who’s so good at kissing I don’t believe he’s never kissed anyone.”

And he continued to list every single thing Paulo was to him, and Paulo closed his eyes and lay down on his bed and listened to him, tears running down his cheeks and into his ears because he knew even though he was so many different things to Alvaro, there was one he would never be – his boyfriend.


	11. I Know The Sun Must Set To Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again guys! Thank you once again for all your nice nice comments, I read all of them over and over again and I try to reply all of them but I can't come up with anything else to say except thank you so much. I'm really happy that you guys are enjoying this fic and I hope to hear more of your feedback/opinions/feelings about each chapter! Thank you so much <3
> 
> Title is from Paradise by Coldplay.

On his seventeenth birthday, Paulo kissed a girl for the first time.

His brothers threw a party for him and invited their friends as well as his, from Instituto and from school. Paulo had a great time, honestly – no beer involved, but he enjoyed himself nonetheless.

It happened when everyone was leaving at around sunset, and Paulo had just stepped into the backyard to look for anyone else who might’ve been there. Chilling or whatever. A group of girls, Mariano’s friends, were heading towards the house. Paulo knew them from when Mariano had his friends around; he knew most of his brothers’ friends, actually.

One of them stopped when she saw Paulo, although her friends continued walking through the door. Paulo’s heart did a jump when she approached, because _okay_ , he had to admit he sorta had a crush on her, from way back when his brother first introduced them. But it was nothing other than a silly crush which Paulo attributed to the fact that she was an older girl with the kind of soft black hair that he liked, and a personality that was friendly but not too loud or flaunting.

“Happy birthday, Paulo,” she said, and lightly squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said. “And uh. Thanks for coming, too.”

And she smiled, and without any warning at all, suddenly leaned forward and gave Paulo a soft, lingering peck on the lips. She was just a little shorter than him, too, which made it not difficult at all. Paulo barely had time to actually register they were kissing before she pulled away.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before a single peep could come out of it, Paulo grabbed her by the arms and pushed her up against the wall, immediately diving back into the kiss. He was lucky she was as agreeable to it as he was. Her hands landed in Paulo’s hair, gently tugging at it, and her lips seemed to melt against Paulo’s – and Paulo thought, wow, kissing sure was fun, no matter who he did it with.

“You’re a great kisser,” she whispered.

Paulo’s eyes snapped open, and for some lame _idiotic_ reason that he couldn’t understand, he found himself surprised that he’d opened his eyes to the sight of her face. Part of him just couldn’t believe he was kissing her. Part of him remembered the last time those words were spoken, it was from him to Alvaro.

Part of him wished that he had been kissing Alvaro.

“Uh,” he said, and pulled away for good. He ran a hand through his unruly hair and shuffled his feet around. “I, um.”

She didn’t seem fazed by his awkwardness. Instead, she reached over and fondly ruffled his hair, because after all they’d known each other for three years. “You’re a big boy now, Paulo,” she said affectionately. “Happy birthday.”

And then she left Paulo standing there, thoroughly confused and maybe just a little aroused, but above all, guilty.

He had no reason to feel guilty. He was seventeen and single as fuck and he could kiss whoever the hell he wanted. But he still felt it anyway, a dull ache in his heart, as he trudged back into the house, up the stairs, and into his room, flopping over on his bed.

He picked up his phone and called the very person who gave him all these feelings.

“Asleep yet?” he asked.

“You told me you’d call me after the party so I stayed up,” Alvaro said. He didn’t sound sleepy at all. And right then Paulo thought, fuck. Kissing sure was fun no matter who he did it with but there was only one person he would _want_ to do it with, nevertheless.

“Yeah, uh,” Paulo hesitated, not sure if he should talk to Alvaro about it. Not sure if he was _ready_ to talk about it. “Uh. I kissed someone.”

There was an even longer pause from Alvaro. Then he said, “Yeah? And you’re telling me about it, not going any further with her?”

“She went home. I don’t even know how it happened. I just.”

“Okay, okay, chill,” Alvaro said. “A girl? Who?”

“One of Mariano’s friends. The one I, you know. Sorta like.”

“An _older girl?_ ” Alvaro said incredulously. “Damn, Paulo.”

“I’m sorry, I –“ Paulo started, but was interrupted by Alvaro.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” he said lightly.

Paulo closed his eyes, heaved a big sigh, and ran his hand through his hair. This whole thing was fucking stupid. He liked her and he enjoyed the kiss and he didn’t deserve to feel any of this.

“I really liked it,” he said softly. If only it hadn’t made him this confused. It would have been the perfect kiss. “Like, it was. Wow.”

“Better than your first kiss?” Alvaro teased.

“Yeah,” Paulo said in jest, earning himself a loud burst of Alvaro’s laughter. “No, nah, it wasn’t.”

“Well, you can always tell people this was your first kiss,” Alvaro said, and Paulo’s heart gave another little jump because _hell no_ , he _loved_ his actual first kiss. And his first sexual encounter with somebody other than his own hand. And the person he did them both with. “I hate you so much, you had two great first kisses and I had an awful one.”

“Too bad,” Paulo laughed.

“But, you know,” Alvaro continued. “I, uh. I liked our kiss very much.”

“Me, too,” Paulo whispered. His heart was thumping violently again but it wasn’t because he’d just kissed a super attractive girl. And it definitely wasn’t because he had resolved the question of his sexuality because come on, it was everything but black and white and kissing exactly one boy and one girl wasn’t going to answer anything. But Paulo knew what it definitely _was_ because, and sometimes he hated Alvaro for saying these things but other times, like that night, he really enjoyed it. “Hey. Thanks for staying up,” he finally said.

“Yeah, of course. Happy birthday, Pau.”

“Maybe one day we’ll get to spend our birthdays together.”

A long silence followed that, and Paulo found himself wishing that day would come. Like, right then. Because even if him and Alvaro weren’t supposed to love each other, they were still best friends and being so far apart was equally painful.

“Hey,” Alvaro finally spoke again. “You still there?”

“Of course I am.”

“I just want you to know,” he said softly. “How much I appreciate you. Okay? Just…just everything you’ve done for me and everything you’re doing now, even though you’re such a blockhead and you don’t even know it. I appreciate every single thing. And I’m sorry things have to be this way and I’m sorry we can’t be closer and everything, but. One day we will be, okay? I’m really, I just. I’m really thankful for you and. Yeah. Happy birthday, Paulo. I hope you had a great one.”

“I did,” Paulo smiled. Part of him wished that after the ‘and’ would come something along the likes of Alvaro confessing his feelings because after all this while, Alvaro had never actually directly said anything about how he felt. Not to a sober Paulo. But he shook it off, because frankly he was tired of thinking about it and it was worthless, pining for something he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Thank you, Alvi. For everything you’ve done for me, too.”

“We’ll always be together. Paulo and Alvaro. No matter what happens.”

And on that night Paulo slept pleasantly with that one thought in his mind.

\------

Paulo finally cut his hair after the New Year and Alvaro was delighted when he first saw it over Skype.

“You did it!” he squealed. “You’re not a lion anymore!”

Paulo burst into laughter. He’d actually only cut the sides and a little of the back, it was still hanging low on his nape. But to Alvaro it seemed to be a huge difference.

“Looks good?” he asked.

“Yes, cut it like this next time!” Alvaro said excitedly. “Still kinda a lion, but. It looks good!”

“Okay, chill,” Paulo said, embarrassed. He ran a hand through his now much shorter hair. He wasn’t used to Alvaro practically fawning over him; he hoped Alvaro wasn’t able to see how red he probably was. “I’m not gonna Skype you anymore if you’re gonna squeal like that.”

Alvaro stared admiringly at him for a few silent seconds following that before finally saying, “So, you gonna go out there and get a date for Valentines’ day?”

“What the fuck, that’s like a month away.”

“Yeah, well,” Alvaro leaned in excitedly. “Always better to plan ahead? Plus, your market value just shot up. In a month your hair will be all grown out and no one will wanna go out with you.”

“Fuck off,” Paulo said, and slammed the laptop shut, only to have his phone light up with another Skype call within seconds. “Why are you so mean to me?” he asked as he opened his laptop again and received the call there.

“Isn’t that what brothers do?” Alvaro said, and Paulo rolled his eyes because what did _Alvaro_ know, he’d never had a brother.

“Not all the time,” he relented.

“Okay, okay,” Alvaro said. “Just. Wanna help you figure things out.”

Paulo felt a pang of guilt. After all, they were both in this together and no one would understand what he was going through as much as Alvaro did. No one would _care_ as much as Alvaro did. When Paulo turned back to the screen he saw Alvaro just gazing dejectedly at his own hands.

“Yeah, I, um,” Paulo cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll…yeah. Ask someone out.”

Alvaro perked up and moved closer to the screen. “Anyone in mind?”

 _You,_ Paulo wanted to say. But instead he just nodded. “Yeah. One of Mariano’s friends’ sisters.”

“Don’t tell me it’s that girl you kissed. Her sister?”

“No, what the hell,” Paulo laughed. “That’d be weird as fuck.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Uh, she’s. About my height I guess. She has dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She’s, I don’t know. She’s really nice and shy and sometimes she comes over with her brother and we talk. She plays a little football. I kicked a ball around with her in our backyard once. It was…really nice. I like her.”

“What’s her name?” Alvaro asked, and he had this really affectionate look on his face, like he genuinely wanted Paulo to be happy. And Paulo felt this burst of _he didn’t even know what_ in his chest. Maybe he could try to be happy just so _Alvaro_ could be happy. Even if it meant he had to find someone else.

“Camila,” Paulo smiled.

“Awwww,” Alvaro cooed. “You really like her.”

“Yeah,” Paulo felt himself blushing and he had to tear his eyes off Alvaro. “Uh. What about you?”

“Still looking for a date,” Alvaro said casually. He’d been legally allowed to buy alcohol after turning 18 in October and had been going to bars more often since then, meeting girls and making out with them and telling Paulo every single detail about every single encounter.

Paulo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel jealous or if he was supposed to jerk off to the images Alvaro put in his mind. He usually did both.

“You’ll tell me when you find one, yeah?” Paulo asked. He suddenly felt so fiercely _possessive_ over Alvaro, because Alvaro was _his_ and he loved Alvaro _first_ and every other person who came after him, he had to make sure they’d make Alvaro as happy as Paulo would if he had been able to.

“Of course I will,” Alvaro said kindly. He was smiling at Paulo again, that calm, soothing smile that Paulo both loved and hated. “Yeah.”

\------

Two weeks later Alvaro called to talk about the girl he asked out, a tall brunette (‘ _probably taller than you’)_ who did track and field and was a music major and whose name was Cassandra.

“Kinda great, ‘cause Cass rhymes with ass and she has a nice one,” Alvaro said.

“That’s no way to talk about a girl,” Paulo grumbled.

“You’re gonna thank me next time when you meet a girl named Cassandra and want to pick her up.”

“No I’m not.”

“Fine,” Alvaro huffed. “What’s gotten into you, anyway? You sound pissed.”

“I don’t,” Paulo said, and immediately realised that he _did_. “Whatever.”

“Look, I won’t talk about other girls if you don’t want me to,” Alvaro said. He sounded a little hurt.

“No,” Paulo said, so impatient to stop Alvaro that he’d practically snapped at him. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I mean. No. Don’t stop, I wanna listen.”

_I wanna know. Because it seems like you’ve already forgotten everything we had and I don’t understand how you could be this oblivious. Because this is so difficult for me to go through alone but I’m too afraid to mention it. Because I want to keep you close, even if it hurts to listen to you swoon over someone else. Because you’re my best friend no matter what happens and I want to know what’s going on although I can’t physically be there._

“Okay,” Alvaro whispered.

“Where did you guys meet?”

“She works at the restaurant we go to after matches,” Alvaro said. “Not the diner, it’s like, somewhere more fancy. Like, with alcohol.”

“Because you graduated from eating at the diner?” Paulo teased. “Like, now you’ve played a few games for the first team, you gotta upgrade your eating habits? What a snob.”

Alvaro scoffed and Paulo knew it was because he knew it was true. “Anyway. We talk sometimes, she talks more to me than my other teammates, for some reason. She sings and plays the guitar and the keyboard and like, a ton of other instruments. She sings at the restaurant sometimes. Sometimes I walk her home. We, uh, made out once. Last December, when I played in the Copa del Rey.”

“The one whose ass you groped?” Paulo asked. He hated that he could remember every single one of Alvaro’s sexcapades. In great detail.

There was a short embarrassed pause. “Yes,” Alvaro said curtly.

“Your dating life’s all screwed up,” Paulo noted. “You’re supposed to go on a date first, then comes the kissing, and _then_ the ass groping.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro said, but he was laughing, so it was fine. “Told you she has a nice ass.”

“Plenty of time for that I guess,” Paulo said.

“Did you ask Camila out yet?”

“No,” Paulo said truthfully. It wasn’t that he changed his mind – he was just too afraid. Partly because he thought maybe she would say no and he would be crushed yet again. And partly because he was just scared of trying this relationship thing out. With someone that wasn’t Alvaro.

“Are you going to?”

“Yeah, I am,” Paulo said, and the conversation about their love lives ended there. Because Paulo didn’t like to talk about it too much and because Alvaro decided that he would be more interested in rambling to Paulo about his life at Real Madrid.

Which, _man_ , Paulo appreciated, because he would much rather listen to how great a footballing life Alvaro was having and almost burst at the seams with all the pride he held for Alvaro, than to painfully navigate his way through another conversation about his pathetic, directionless love life.

\------

Paulo did eventually ask Camila out, the next time she came over with her brother. He took her out to the backyard again, and he was super unprepared but he stole a single rose stalk from one of his mom’s vases and gave it to her as he asked, “So, uh, I…I wanna ask you if you’d like to, um. Go out with me? On Valentines’ day.” Because ‘would you like to be my Valentine’ sounded completely cheesy and Paulo couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Camila smiled a gorgeous smile and Paulo felt his heart do a little jump. She took the flower from him and said, “Yeah. Sure.”

And Paulo heaved this huge internal sigh of relief because he’d completely screwed up the asking part but she’d said yes anyway, and _God,_ he’d never felt this accomplished in his entire life. He grabbed a stray football and Camila’s hand and they played the most pleasant kickaround Paulo had experienced.

Unfortunately for him, all the restaurants were booked solid for Valentines’ day, even two weeks before. When he called Alvaro to complain, all Alvaro did was laugh.

“Dude. Told you to plan ahead.”

“What, like you have a reservation?”

“I don’t need one, we’re just gonna get a hotel room and fuck.”

Paulo went silent, half stunned by Alvaro’s _audacity_ and half because his heart had practically just fallen to the ground and gotten trampled on by a boy halfway across the world.

“Hey,” Alvaro said when Paulo still hadn’t replied. He sounded a little panicked and like he was thoroughly regretting what he’d just said. “Pau. I’m fucking kidding, man. I got a reservation. Because she fucking _works there_.”

“Oh,” Paulo said, more coldly than he’d intended.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“No, uh,” Paulo stammered. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. _Fucking hold it together, Paulo._ “So. You’re bringing her to the restaurant she works at? How romantic.”

There was a slight surprised pause from Alvaro, then, “Pfft. She told me she’s never tried the restaurant’s food because it’s expensive and employees don’t get discounts.”

“Sounds great, though. Have fun.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said again. “I didn’t mean that. It was a joke, I swear.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Paulo brushed it off. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for handling things so well. For getting _used_ to Alvaro being such a straightforward horny teenager who wanted to bang every girl he met. “Look, am I truly your friend if you can’t talk like that to me?”

Alvaro laughed. “True.”

“But are you really going to? Like. Have sex with her.”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro admitted. “I mean, we can’t predict these things? And also like. I’ve never done it before. What if I do something wrong? It’s not the same as jerking myself off.”

“Maybe you’ll want to. After getting to know her better. Things…always fall into place, you know?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro sighed. “Thanks, Paulo.”

Paulo hoped things would fall into place for _him_ , too.

\------

As per Alvaro’s eventual suggestion, Paulo brought Camila for a picnic. He prepared sandwiches and fruits and a slice of cake, and brought a bottle of sparkling cider. Camila seemed really content with it all, and spent the entire walk to the meadow smiling at Paulo and asking him about himself. Which, well, wasn’t much to talk about, because Paulo felt like he was a boring person.

But Camila made him feel so welcome and relaxed. She asked him about every single detail he might’ve fleetingly mentioned. But not even in the prying way, like she was trying to judge his character by his answers – she genuinely wanted to know about him and she listened intently to every single one of his answers.

When afternoon came they shifted under a tree and lay down on their blanket, eyes half-closed. Paulo lazily swatted at the leaves that were tickling his arms. “So, uh,” he started. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go for a nice fancy dinner or anything, but. I hope you’re having a good time. Because I am. You know, with you.”

And he wanted to smack himself in the head because he was awkward as fuck. Thankfully, Camila didn’t seem to care.

“I’m having a great time,” she said softly, and her hand slowly moved to find Paulo’s and held it gently. When Paulo turned to her, she was smiling at him. “I’m glad we did this. I’ve been…you know, tagging along to your place because…I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “I always hope you’ll come.”

And Camila’s smile grew wider, and Paulo suddenly felt this almost uncontrollable urge to slide over and kiss her.

So he did.

Her lips were the softest and the sweetest and they responded quickly but gently, and Paulo _loved them_ , he loved the way they moved and he loved that they belonged to such a nice girl, and he was so glad he’d found her because she seemed to have some amazing capability to make him forget all about what had been troubling him for so long.

His fingers were all tangled in her hair when they were done, and with their faces inches apart Paulo asked, “Camila. Do you…wanna be my girlfriend?”

And she giggled, the sound travelling in the breeze that was rustling the meadow’s grass all around them, and she nodded a yes. And Paulo’s heart did like, a triple flip, because _fuck_ , he didn’t remember ever being this _happy._

They lay there until it got too hot and they got hungry again, after which they went back to Paulo’s place and sat in front of the TV eating popcorn and kissing and wasting their entire day like that until Camila had to go home because she had a curfew.

At around nine at night Paulo received a call from Alvaro.

“I can’t sleep,” he told Paulo.

“Why? Because Cass is in bed next to you?” Paulo joked. But even he was aware he sounded pretty spiteful.

“No,” Alvaro said, a little hurt. “I just wanna tell somebody all about tonight.”

“Yeah. Tell me.”

So Alvaro did, and honestly it just sounded like any other ordinary Valentines’ Day dinner but Paulo listened to every detail nonetheless. Alvaro had thoroughly enjoyed himself and Paulo couldn’t even bring himself to be jealous. Not when he’d finally found his own reason to be happy.

“I’m glad you had a great time,” Paulo said after Alvaro was finished. “You seem to really like her. Like, not just her ass, but _her_.”

“I do,” Alvaro said affectionately. “Thank you. How was your date?”

“It was, um. Nothing much, really,” Paulo confessed. “But I had a super great time. Thanks for the picnic idea.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, too.”

“I asked her to be my girlfriend,” Paulo continued. “She said yes.”

“Awww, really?” Alvaro said excitedly, though a little toned down because it was in the middle of the night where he was. “Aww, Paulo! Your first girlfriend!”

“I really, really like her,” Paulo whispered, and felt himself blush all the way from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “Like. Really, really.”

“I know you do,” Alvaro said. “Paulo, this is so great. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Paulo smiled. “You know, not just for this. For…everything. Everything, Alvi.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro gave a little chuckle. “Always.”

And in that instant everything felt normal, like nothing weird had ever happened between the both of them. Everything was okay, they were brothers again, and Paulo was amazed by the fact that the words Alvaro said that usually made his heart flutter didn’t do so this time, and the words Alvaro said that usually made his heart fall didn’t work this time, either. Maybe this was it. Maybe he’d mistaken all of his gratitude towards Alvaro’s kindness as having feelings for Alvaro. Maybe he’d been thinking too much into things when in fact, they were just two boys who decided to do each other a favour.

Maybe he was right and things _did_ always fall into place.


	12. In The End It Doesn't Even Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from In The End by Linkin Park.

Alvaro finally understood what it was like for Paulo when Alvaro had been with Sofia and had no time for him.

Paulo barely called anymore, unless he was returning one of Alvaro’s calls. They never had enough time to talk, not with the timezone difference. It wasn’t even that Alvaro wanted _anything_ from Paulo. He just wanted to _talk to Paulo_. He felt so horribly lonely even though he and Cassandra were like, a thing. Not that he’d asked her to be his girlfriend, but. They were kinda a thing.

Alvaro thought it would be nice if she made him feel less lonely, but. She didn’t.

It hit him one afternoon when Cassandra was at work and he was at home alone, resting after training – he missed Paulo because he had no one to talk to. He missed hearing about Paulo’s life, sure; but not as much as he missed telling Paulo about _his_ life. Their conversations were mostly spent with Alvaro speaking and Paulo listening. Even though all Alvaro did was describe every girl he met to Paulo, Paulo listened every time.

Alvaro was kind of a selfish fuck.

He flopped over on his bed with a sigh. He honestly didn’t know why Paulo still wanted to be friends with him.

 _Need to talk to you,_ he texted Paulo, and only after hitting send did he realise he’d done it again.

When Paulo called a couple of hours later he sounded panicked. “Yeah?” he asked. “What is it?”

“Uh,” Alvaro said. “Just. How are you doing?”

“What do you need to talk to me about?”

“Just, I’ve been thinking,” Alvaro said slowly. “And like, I miss talking to you. And I realised that I’ve been…not a very good friend. And I just, uh. Wanna say sorry.”

There was a long pause from Paulo’s end. “Where is this coming from?” he finally asked.

“Just,” Alvaro shrugged, even though Paulo couldn’t see him. “I don’t even know what’s going on in your life anymore. And it’s not your fault. It’s like…I always talk about myself. And you always listen to me. And I…don’t think that’s very fair. So I’m sorry.”

Paulo gave a gentle little laugh. “No, hey. I like listening to you. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“How are you?” Alvaro ventured. “Haven’t spoken in so long.”

“Well, I saw your message three seconds after I woke up and thought it was something urgent and nearly shit my pants, so,” Paulo teased. “The day’s starting off great.”

“Sorry,” Alvaro said sheepishly. “What’re you up to today?”

“I have training in a few, then I dunno. Probably hanging out with my family. You?”

Oh, _why_ did it sound so awkward and forced? Alvaro didn’t like this. He wanted their old conversations back. He felt like the tables had just been turned on him and man, did he not like it. He felt another pang of guilt.

“I’ve nothing to do for the day,” he said. “Cass might be coming over later.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t called in so long. Just, busy, you know. With everything.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alvaro smiled. “I, um, just. You sound really happy, Pau. And I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered.

“How’s Camila?”

And that caused Paulo to launch into a full-blown description of his and Camila’s relationship, including the new information that Paulo and her were going to Mexico in June because they weren’t even eighteen and their parents wouldn’t let them go further away than that.

“How’s Cass?”

Alvaro bit on his lip. He had a million things to tell Paulo but he didn’t want to do that talking thing again. And Paulo seemed to know.

“Hey,” Paulo said. “I don’t even care how much you talk, okay? Honestly. I don’t. So just say whatever you want and I’ll listen. I’m good at that, don’t you think?”

It made Alvaro laugh. “Yeah,” he said, feeling the awkwardness dissipate. He never wanted things to be awkward between him and Paulo – like, literally anybody else would be okay, but not _Paulo_.

And then it was his turn to launch into a detailed narration of how he and Cassandra were doing. Which was actually what he’d wanted to talk to Paulo about, because he knew Paulo would have the exact words to say that would make Alvaro feel better about himself. He was a little afraid to admit it at first, but.

“I think maybe Cass isn’t right for me,” Alvaro finally said after rambling on about useless details.

“Yeah?” Paulo said, deadpan. “Why?”

“Well, she has a nice body and all, but,” Alvaro started, which made Paulo laugh. “We’re really different people, you know? I feel like she has her shit together and I don’t. She wants to travel around the world and make music. And I know that, like, we’re only teens and all but. I don’t think I can live with that. You know what happened between me and Sofia.”

“You do have your shit together, Alvi.”

“You think so, but,” Alvaro sighed. “It’s hard to explain. She’s great, really, and we have a lot of fun. And she’s super hot. But we’re not even official or whatever, you know that. She’s just…she turned out not to be the kind of person I was after.”

“So…” Paulo said. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said softly. “I don’t wanna have another summer breakup.”

He sounded so fucking _pathetic_ and he needed to man up, honestly. But he was tired of not having anyone to talk to because Cassandra was always either busy with work or playing music for him to hear (which he loved, really) – and it wasn’t like he could talk to her _about her_.

“Have you guys, you know. Done stuff?” Paulo asked.

“Like, we touch each other and stuff,” Alvaro said. “You know, I’m still. Yeah. A virgin. I mean, not counting the time…we did that.”

It didn’t feel weird talking to Paulo about it, for some reason.

“Are you gonna, you know, end it?”

“I feel like I should,” Alvaro whispered. “But…”

“The summer thing,” Paulo finished.

“But I don’t wanna force it either, you know?”

“Whatever you do, you know I’m here, right?” Paulo said. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Alvaro said, grateful. “Thank you. For everything.”

“And I miss talking to you, too,” Paulo continued. “I’m sorry I haven’t called so often. But now it’s gonna be summer, winter for me, and we’ll have more time, and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Promise,” Alvaro said.

“Take care, Alvi. Tell me how it goes with Cass.”

Alvaro felt this strange sense of emptiness after he hung up the phone.

\------

Alvaro broke up with Cassandra the next day and the emptiness only grew.

He called Paulo with tears brimming in his eyes, too proud and stubborn to let them fall.

“I did it,” he whispered. “I broke up with Cass.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said, and he sounded really sad. “Did you think about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for so long, Paulo. I’m tired. I don’t want to think about it, to fall for her even more and know that in the end nothing’s gonna come out of it. I don’t want to break up with her when I’m already in too deep.”

And even as he said those words he was struck by how familiar they felt, like they could’ve been applied to another situation in his life, not just to Cassandra.

They applied to him and Paulo.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo said. “Hey. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Is it?” Alvaro asked, and he had to chew on his lip so he wouldn’t sob loudly.

“I promise. It’s always going to be okay.”

“I really liked her, Paulo. I don’t know why it turned out like this.”

“Sometimes,” Paulo sighed, but not impatiently. “Sometimes, things don’t work out just because there are better things for you out there. And _those_ are gonna work out one day. Yeah?”

“When did you become such a smartass?” Alvaro asked, his voice now thick with all the contained tears.

Paulo laughed, which made Alvaro’s chest feel warm. “Since I met you. I have to match up to your smartassness.”

“I’m really glad I have you, Paulo.”

“I’m really glad you have me, too.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro laughed. “I’m not gonna be nice anymore.”

“Whatever suits you,” Paulo teased. “But hey. I promise. Everything’s gonna be fine. I fucking _promise._ ”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered, the tears now falling down his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Call me, okay? During summer.”

And Alvaro would, because Paulo was the only person in the entire world who cared and who _would care_ , and Alvaro was never going to let go of him.

\------

Paulo ended up going completely off the radar during summer because everything went to shit in June.

First, Paulo left for Mexico with Camila. He sent Alvaro photos when he had wi-fi, and they were mostly selfies at the beach or like, photos of food. And photos of the inside of his super luxurious hotel room.

But after three days he totally disappeared and Alvaro started to worry. He waited up for photos and texted Paulo but there was no reply, and Alvaro half thought maybe he should fly over there and check it out himself. But he called Paulo’s mom and found out that Paulo had been in contact with her, so Alvaro didn’t do anything reckless.

He was somewhat pacified by a hasty ‘ _I’m fine_ ’ text by Paulo a week into the trip, but that was all again for the next few days. And Alvaro wasn’t convinced by the text at all. But it was only another week until Paulo was back in Argentina so maybe he’d wait till then. Besides, maybe Paulo was just too busy having fun and Alvaro was overthinking everything.

Alvaro’s calls remained unanswered until a couple of days after Paulo had returned to Argentina.

“Told you, I’m fine,” Paulo snapped when he finally took Alvaro’s call. Well, Alvaro heard his _intention_ to snap, but it came out as weak and slurred.

“Are you drunk?” Alvaro asked.

“No.”

“Why do you sound like this?”

“Leave me alone,” Paulo said, but didn’t hang up. It was followed by a loud wheezing sound, which made Alvaro realise.

Paulo wasn’t drunk. He was _crying_.

“What’s wrong?” Alvaro asked gently. “Paulo. Talk to me, please.”

And it must’ve been how gentle Alvaro sounded because Paulo broke into loud sobs, gasping and choking and trying his hardest to speak.

“Everything is shit,” he finally managed.

“What happened?”

“Camila and I broke up,” Paulo said. “I had sex with her and then we broke up.”

“Because you had sex?”

“No, fuck,” Paulo snapped. Like, really snapped this time. “I just. Can’t. We went to this bar with some friends we made and. Things went to shit.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“We were at this bar,” Paulo started again, slowly. “And I was dared. To make out with this random guy and I did. And, you know. I liked it. I liked it so much that I let him take me to his room and, you know. Do things. And then Camila found out and we broke up and came back on separate flights and fuck. Alvaro. I don’t even know.”

“You got laid twice on the same trip and you’re upset?” Alvaro said, meaning it as a joke. But Paulo wasn’t having any of it. Not at all.

“Fuck you, not everything is about sex, Alvaro!”

And that shut Alvaro up, because the day Paulo failed to take one of Alvaro’s jokes was the day shit was hitting the fan.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo sobbed. “I just.”

“Slowly, okay,” Alvaro said softly. “Take as long as you want.”

“I really liked her, you know?” Paulo whispered. “I really did. I still do. I don’t know what got into me. It wasn’t like the sex with her was awful or anything. It was great, like, if things were normal right now you know I’d be going on non-stop about it to you. But then there’s also…fuck. What’s wrong with me, Alvi? I fucked everything up. It’s like I don’t even know myself anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, Pau.”

“I’m so fucking confused.”

And Alvaro wished he could hug the fuck out of Paulo but he couldn’t, and he once again bemoaned the fact that they were so far apart because fuck, he really wanted to make sure Paulo was okay. He wanted Paulo back. His happy cheery Paulo. Even if that Paulo had a girlfriend.

“Maybe, you know,” Alvaro started cautiously. “This will help you figure things out.”

“How?” Paulo asked. “I fucking let some random dude blow me. Like _that’s_ gonna help me figure _anything_ out.”

“Maybe you’re bi,” Alvaro said. “Have you ever thought about that? It doesn’t have to be just boys or just girls. Maybe you go for both.”

“Yeah?” Paulo choked on the word a little. “But no one’s gonna want me because I’m _greedy_.”

“Fuck them,” Alvaro said earnestly. “They can’t take that you’re bi, they can fuck the hell off. People who truly care. They won’t give a fuck.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said again. “Alvaro, I’m. I’m so sorry. That I didn’t call and that I snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

“No, hey,” Alvaro’s heart fell a little. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I just, uh. Hope you’re fine. Because I really wanna be there for you right now but I can’t and I’m sorry.”

“I’m just,” Paulo whispered, and he’d started to cry again and _God_ , Alvaro just wanted to _hold him_. “So tired and so confused and I just want to sleep. I wish things with Camila didn’t end like this. I wish I hadn’t been so fucking _stupid_ and I wish, fuck. I wish so many things, Alvi. So many things.”

“You can’t change it now, so just…get some rest, okay? I know you’re confused and everything, but this isn’t something you need to rush into. No one’s asking you to tell anyone your accurate sexual orientation or whatever. So just. Take as long as you need. Maybe when you feel better you can talk to Camila. And hey, Paulo.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes things don’t work out because there are better things for you out there.”

And Paulo laughed, and Alvaro could feel some sort of warmth bleed through his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, Alvi. Really.”

“And when you feel better you can tell me all about the sex, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” Paulo said, and he was laughing loudly through his sobs now, and Alvaro felt a weird sense of accomplishment and relief. “Look at us, Alvaro. Lonely summer. Lonely winter.”

“We’re a couple of losers, aren’t we?”

“Fucking useless,” Paulo agreed with a sigh.

“At least we’ll always have each other,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. He sounded much calmer and just…accepting. “Always.”

\------

Paulo was pretty surprised when Camila took his call on the first try. They met at the park, and Camila looked like she’d been having as little sleep as Paulo was.

“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, I know,” she said before Paulo could say anything. She didn’t even _look at him_.

“I just, you know,” Paulo said. “I wanted to explain…things.”

“Okay,” she said, because she was _Camila_ and she was the _nicest person on earth_ so she would never say no.

“I’m still figuring things out,” Paulo started slowly. “About myself. And I know that, like, I like girls. But I also…uh. Might like boys. And I’m sorry. I know our holiday wasn’t the right place or time to try and figure that out but. I’m so sorry. I really don’t know what got into me and I have no excuse.”

“Yeah,” Camila whispered. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Cam.”

“It’s fine,” she said, albeit with tears streaming down her face. “I’m, just. It’s fine. Okay?”

“It was, uh. My first time. With you.”

“Yeah?” she finally turned to look at Paulo, examining him like she wasn’t quite sure if he was telling the truth. “Me, too.”

“And it wasn’t bad,” Paulo continued. “Hell, it was opposite of bad. I just want you to know that it wasn’t because it was bad.”

“Okay,” she said again, and her gaze returned to the ground. “I really like you, Paulo.”

“I really like you, too.”

“I really thought we were going to work out.”

“I _want_ us to work out,” Paulo whispered, and then shook his head at himself. “It probably won’t, I know. I’m not asking anything, I just, yeah. I’m so, so sorry.”

She turned to look at him again, her expression changing. “Did it mean anything to you?” she asked. “With that dude.”

“No, fuck, I don’t even know who he is,” Paulo said. “I was drunk and confused and. Well, fucking _horny_ , okay, I’m seventeen years old.”

Much to his surprise, Camila actually burst into soft laughter. “I know.”

“Can we, maybe…be friends?” Paulo ventured. He was expecting Camila to say no.

“I really hoped that we’d work out. You know, as a couple,” was what she said instead. “And a part of me wants to give this another chance, because shit, Paulo. I really like you. But it’d be selfish, don’t you think? If I…you know, keep you from working this out. From like, exploring. So…so go and find yourself, Paulo. Maybe one day when you do, maybe you’ll remember me, yeah?”

Paulo took a step forward and pulled her into a hug, and she was crying again and Paulo felt like a pile of crap. She really was an amazing girl and Paulo hated to let it go like this.

“I’m so sorry, Cam,” he whispered. “And of course I’ll remember you. You’re the first person I’ve ever been with, you know? The first person I was actually brave enough to be with. I’ll never forget that.”

“Good luck,” Camila whispered back. “And yes. We can try to be friends.”

After a gentle squeeze of Paulo’s waist and another soft whisper of ‘take care,’ Camila left.

Paulo stood watching as her silhouette faded, and he couldn’t help but think that he’d let another one go. Another might-have-been. Another _should-have-been_. First Alvaro, and then Camila.


	13. What If I Won't See You Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Birds by Coldplay.

Paulo and Alvaro’s lonely midyears were quickly forgotten when Alvaro went for the Under-19 European Championships in Romania.

And Paulo decided to go watch him.

Due to circumstances at home he couldn’t catch Alvaro’s opening match and nearly missed his second. He rushed all the way to the stadium though, and missed meeting Alvaro before the match but managed to huff and puff his way to Alvaro’s family and finally sit down when the match kicked off.

“Paulo!” Alvaro’s mom greeted Paulo. She wrapped her arms so tightly around him he couldn’t breathe. “You made it! And you’ve grown taller!”

“Yeah?” Paulo mumbled. “I miss you guys.”

“We’ve missed you too. Alvaro’s always talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said again.

Marta gave him a weird look before they settled to watch the match. And Paulo was pretty sure it wasn’t only because he’d completely shaven all his hair (it wasn’t his fault, his hairdresser told him it would be better to start afresh for the style he had in mind). It was something more than that. Besides, Paulo was wearing a backward cap to cover his lack of hair.

Alvaro scored a hat-trick and Paulo felt so proud he thought he was going to burst. He thought maybe he was happier than he would be if _he_ had scored the hat-trick himself. He couldn’t stop _smiling_ but then, Alvaro’s family couldn’t stop smiling either so he fit right in.

They all gathered outside the locker room to have their fifteen minutes with Alvaro before he left with the team. Paulo suddenly felt nervous; it would be the first time he was seeing Alvaro since what happened in his hostel the previous summer. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest for more reasons than one and his palms were sweaty and _God,_ he hoped he wasn’t going to faint or whatever.

It was funny how much things had changed within half a year. In February Paulo had a girlfriend and the world was bright and colourful and Paulo thought that the feelings he’d had towards nice and kind Alvaro was just gratitude disguised as a silly crush. But in July, there he was again, back in square one.

Alvaro looked a mixture of exhausted and thrilled and just so _happy_ when he saw Paulo. He ran straight to Paulo with the match ball in his hands, completely ignoring the rest of his family.

“You made it!”

“Of course I did,” Paulo beamed, all his anxiousness fading away. He took the ball from Alvaro and spun it in his hands. “Congrats.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro said happily. He reached over and took Paulo’s cap off his head, and upon seeing just how _bald_ Paulo was he immediately clapped it back on Paulo’s head to cover it back up. “You did it?” he whispered like it was something illegal, his eyes so wide open Paulo thought they were going to pop out of their sockets.

“Yeah,” Paulo burst into laughter. “Well? How’s my market value now?”

“Negative fifteen.”

Paulo gave a huff and stood behind Alvaro as he went to greet his family, receiving the hugs and kisses and hair ruffles shyly. When his time was up and the coaching staff began to call for him, he turned back to Paulo.

“Really proud of you,” Paulo said, handing the ball back to him. Although that was a massive understatement; Paulo was so proud of Alvaro he could probably yell so loudly his mom heard him from Argentina.

“Talk to you soon,” Alvaro gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thank you, my bald lion.”

That night, Paulo’s cheeks cramped up from all the smiling he did.

\------

Spain got thrashed by Turkey in their last group match, but it didn’t matter because they won the group and _then_ thrashed Ireland and got to the final. Alvaro scored two more in that match, and Paulo didn’t think he could be any prouder but he _was_. He couldn’t even explain why.

Marta continued staring weirdly at him until the night of the final. It had been _a week_ since Paulo arrived and she was still doing it, and when they ended up next to each other to watch the final Paulo asked, “What’s up with you?”

“It’s interesting,” Marta replied.

“What is?”

“You and Alvaro.”

“Why?”

Marta stared at him a little longer. “Do you know who looks the happiest here?”

Paulo took a look at the three of them. “Uh. Your dad?”

“No, God,” Marta rolled her eyes. “ _You_. It’s not even natural, how happy you are. It can’t be.”

“Well,” Paulo cleared his throat because there was a lump in it caused by _how thoroughly Marta was seeing through him_. “He’s my best friend.”

“Mhmm,” Marta said. And then the match started and Paulo spent it frowning at Marta and wondering if she’d teach him how to be less obvious.

He realised he really needed that, when the match went to extra time and Alvaro hadn’t scored.

“Chill, he’s gonna be top scorer anyway,” Marta said without even _looking_ at Paulo. God, Paulo was fucking obvious. “Unless that Czech dude scores a hat-trick. Which he won’t.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Paulo hissed.

“You know I’m right,” Marta said, and Paulo briefly wondered if all sisters were this annoying. If so, he was glad he had two brothers.

Spain eventually won without needing penalties and Paulo bounded ahead of Alvaro’s family down the pitch to meet Alvaro. Alvaro met him with wide open arms, the grin on his face so wide Paulo thought it was going to split into two.

“I’m so proud of you,” Paulo mumbled into the front of his sweaty, _smelly_ shirt that brought back so many memories of summer 2009.

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered, and kissed Paulo’s head through his cap. “Thank you so much. For everything. For like, flying across the world to watch me.”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled, and closed his eyes because he felt like he was going to faint, holding Alvaro so close again and, despite in the middle of this deafening atmosphere, feeling like they were in their own little bubble. He stood there just fucking _clinging_ onto Alvaro because if he let go he was literally going to fall over.

But then he cracked an eye open and saw Marta just _staring_ at them and he quickly pulled away, just gripping on to the hem of Alvaro’s shirt to steady himself. He turned his cap back in front to hide his face, which was most likely beet red by then.

Alvaro looked to still be in disbelief as he handed his medal to his parents. It was his first time winning a tournament for Spain and Paulo was just so _incredibly proud_ because he knew Alvaro was going places and now _he was_. Paulo thought maybe he was supposed to feel jealous or whatever, but how could he?

Dani and some of the others recognised Paulo and came over to drag him and Alvaro into their celebrations. Paulo gladly joined – partly because it felt nice seeing all of them again after two years and it felt nice that they wanted him to celebrate with them; but mostly because it was now Alvaro’s turn to cling onto him, and man, Paulo did not want him to ever let go.

\------

The both of them were finally given some time alone when they returned to Spain.

A blast of nostalgia hit Paulo as he stepped into the Moratas’ spare room, his previous temporary bedroom. He stood there in a doorway for a long while, just taking in the familiarity, the room he knew so well but had actually only spent a month in.

Alvaro suddenly appeared by his shoulder, giving it a hard tap as he said, “Dibs on the shower.”

Paulo laughed, and the nostalgia had gotten so overwhelming he could feel tears pouring out of his eyes. He ran to his old bed and flopped over on it, hugging one of the pillows and crying into the other. He _wanted_ to be here. He wanted to be here, with Alvaro, but he couldn’t be, and it was tearing him apart, bit by bit, so subtly he wasn’t even sure if he noticed it.

He only realised he’d fallen asleep when he opened his eyes again and it was night, and Alvaro was sitting on the ground next to the bed with his sleeping bag and pillows.

“Hey,” Alvaro said with a smile when he saw that Paulo had stirred. “Wanna shower?”

And in his haze Paulo thought Alvaro was asking him if he wanted to shower _together_ , and he thought, _wow, I sure like this world I woke up in_.

And then Alvaro said, “I finished like an hour ago,” and Paulo was like _oh._

He dragged himself out of bed to wash up, and when he returned Alvaro was sprawled out on Paulo’s bed. Paulo nudged him aside and squeezed in next to him; it was a familiar warmth, a familiar scent. A familiar feeling, Alvaro’s body against his.

Paulo closed his eyes, shutting everything out save for the pressure of Alvaro’s hip against his, his hands clenched in fists so he wouldn’t shake.

When he opened his eyes Alvaro was staring at him. “You okay?” Alvaro asked with genuine concern.

 _No,_ Paulo wished he could say _. No, I’m not okay. I haven’t been since I met you. I haven’t been okay for a long time. I wish I wasn’t here but at the same time I’m happy I am. I wish I could tell you all these things but somewhere along the way, I realised I can’t._

“Yeah,” was what he said instead.

Alvaro smiled, his temples crinkling in the way Paulo loved. He flipped himself over so he was facing the ceiling like Paulo was, and then turned to his side and shimmied closer to Paulo, resting his head on Paulo’s shoulder. And Paulo felt that internal conflict again, that feeling of wanting and not wanting it at the same time.

He gently nudged Alvaro’s head off his shoulder, causing Alvaro to turn and look at him again. And Paulo had meant to say ‘I missed you,’ but the way Alvaro was gazing at him froze the words in his throat. Paulo loved Alvaro’s eyes.

Alvaro slowly moved to support himself on his elbows, his face hovering inches above Paulo’s. He wasn’t touching Paulo any longer, just lying there, his eyes not moving save for the slightest flitting they did as he examined Paulo’s face.

It took Paulo some time to realise that Alvaro’s face was moving closer to his. It was slow and almost undetectable, and Paulo’s eyes were inexplicably locked on Alvaro’s and he couldn’t move a limb. Not that he wanted to. Paulo was half afraid that this would be another one of those moments where they nearly kissed but ended up not. He was sure this time, if they missed their chance again, would be different from the others. This time, after everything that had happened, Paulo knew his heart would be thoroughly broken.

Alvaro stopped and so did Paulo’s heart. He nuzzled Paulo’s nose with his, his open-mouthed breaths warming Paulo’s lips. He paused for a long while, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to continue. Paulo raised a hand and placed it on the back of Alvaro’s neck, gently ruffling the hair there with his fingers.

And that was apparently all Alvaro needed. He dove in the rest of the way and gently pressed his lips against Paulo’s – and _fuck_ , there was this rush of relief and liberation that almost knocked Paulo unconscious. No matter how much he’d been trying to deny it, he couldn’t brush off the fact that he’d wanted to do this since – well, since the last time they’d done it.

Paulo tried his hardest to ignore that part of his brain that was bellowing loud sirens and flashing neon orange signs that said _‘THIS IS WRONG’_ in big bold letters. He tried to ignore his heart trying to jump out of his ribcage and instead focused on the feeling of Alvaro’s moist lips on his, tongue hesitantly trying to prod its way through. Alvaro’s weight on his body. Alvaro’s gentle fingers scratching themselves on the stubble on Paulo’s head. He didn’t want to forget a single thing. Not when he didn’t know when it would happen again.

But the kiss lasted shorter than the build-up; Alvaro was the first to pull away, rest his forehead against Paulo’s, and breathe on Paulo’s lips, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Paulo knew that, _God,_ he fucking _knew that_. “But I really, really want to,” he whispered.

Alvaro’s eyes popped open and looked into Paulo’s once again, like he was blissfully unaware how crazy it made Paulo. Then he said, “I know.”

And he climbed off Paulo and lay back down next to him, leaving Paulo aching for him again. Aching for him even though he was _right there_.

They lay in silence for a long while, Alvaro eventually breathing silently and Paulo trying his best to match, but finding himself almost breathless half from having been so _close_ to Alvaro and half from trying to choke back his tears because it was never going to happen again.

Alvaro eventually turned to Paulo again and propped himself up, this time on one elbow. “So,” he said, completely normally, like he didn’t just kiss the fuck out of Paulo. “You gonna tell me about all the sex, or what?”

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. How could Alvaro just act like it was all so _normal_? Like he didn’t even _care_? Paulo wasn’t even sure if he did anymore. How could he just forget it all, like they weren’t supposed to have something that would actually be really meaningful? There was this anger within Paulo that threated to bubble through the surface.

But he turned to Alvaro and all that anger immediately dissipated, because he was _Alvaro_ and Paulo would never not forgive him.

So he told Alvaro everything he could remember from those nights in Mexico, with Camila and with random blowjob dude. Alvaro laughed and he cringed and he gasped and Paulo remembered every single reaction. He was glad that Alvaro let him speak. He was one of the only people in the world who listened wholeheartedly when Paulo spoke. And one of the only people Paulo really wanted to talk to.

Paulo told Alvaro everything about all the sex he’d had even though he wished he’d done it with Alvaro.

Alvaro drifted off to sleep at eleven, finally contented. He was still sprawled out on Paulo’s bed.

Normally, Paulo would’ve just squeezed his way in. Hugged Alvaro’s legs like a bolster or something. Or he’d just nudge Alvaro aside and he’d have enough space because he was tiny.

But on that night he couldn’t survive being so close to Alvaro.

So he crawled into Alvaro’s sleeping bag and tried to sleep, but _fuck_ , the entire place smelled _just like Alvaro_ and it brought Paulo to tears, his cheeks burning along with literally every other part of his body. But he was only here for two more days and then he’d be going back to Argentina. This meant he didn’t have to spend _that_ much time with Alvaro. Although it was counterintuitive, he guessed that it was something to be happy about.

He spent the night wishing, just like every other night he could remember, that things would go back to normal.

\------

Paulo’s weirdness lasted the entire two days he had left in Spain.

Alvaro was fucking _confused_. He’d missed the point when everything changed. Paulo was so happy when they met on the pitch after the final. But then they got back home and everything changed.

And then he remembered the kiss.

Okay, maybe he should never have done that. It was risky and dangerous and it set off all the emotions Paulo was clearly suffering right now. But Alvaro had liked it, and he was sure Paulo did, too. And it was only _a kiss_. It wasn’t like they’d never kissed each other before. Paulo should have understood. Things between them had never been black and white and Paulo knew that. Paulo was the only person who understood that.

They’d been dancing this tango for over a year now. Paulo should have understood.

Paulo only spoke a few words to everybody, and nine of those were, “You don’t have to take me to the airport.”

But Alvaro did, anyway, because Paulo was his best friend no matter what. They rode there in a taxi in complete silence, and this time when Alvaro counted the streetlights passing by, Paulo didn’t smile at him or squeeze his knee.

“What’s up with you?” Alvaro couldn’t resist asking when they walked up to departures.

“Nothing,” Paulo said.

“No,” Alvaro grabbed his elbow and spun him around. “What is it?”

“ _What is it_?” Paulo asked incredulously. “Don’t tell me you don’t know. You’re literally the only person in this entire world besides me who knows.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sighed. “I thought we were over that.”

“No,” it was Paulo’s turn to say, his voice raised a few decibels higher. “No. _You’re_ over that. I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. You can’t just kiss me and then pretend everything is fucking _normal_ , Alvaro. It’s not. Maybe it’ll never be, who knows? Just don’t. Don’t fucking kiss me and not mean it. I would rather you did _nothing at all_.”

“I thought you liked the kiss,” Alvaro whispered.

“I did, that’s the fucking problem!” Paulo exclaimed. “I wish I could talk to you about these things, but I can’t, okay, fuck. Just. Whatever. I gotta go.”

He turned around, cleared departures, and continued walking without so much as a _single glance_ backwards at Alvaro.

Alvaro stood there for a whole thirty minutes, half stunned and in disbelief, and half just about to burst into tears. Paulo had never gotten angry with him before – or at least, not _that_ angry. Alvaro still remembered that time he injured Paulo’s knee and Paulo was mad as fuck.

He made his way home, went into Paulo’s room, and lay in Paulo’s bed taking in Paulo’s scent.

Because no matter what Paulo thought, Alvaro still liked him. The kiss still meant something to Alvaro. Alvaro just sucked at trying to be mature. He sucked at feelings in general. He sucked at not fucking things up.

And now he’d gone and fucked things up with the most important person in his life.


	14. I Try To Picture Me Without You But I Can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you, thank you so much for all your kind words, I really appreciate them so much. I'm sorry if I take ages to reply them because I simply cannot come up with a coherent response that doesn't just involve the words 'thank you' 100 times in a row. But I love love love reading them, thank you all so so much!
> 
> Title is from Immortals by Fall Out Boy.

Almost three months passed without either Paulo or Alvaro initiating any contact.

Frankly, Alvaro would’ve called. He wanted to apologise. But he was fucking _scared_ and he didn’t want to hurt Paulo or piss him off even more. He thought maybe Paulo needed some space from him to get over all these feelings; he knew _he_ did. He lost track of the number of times he actually picked up his phone and dialled Paulo’s number or opened their Skype window only to put it back down without hitting call.

But on Alvaro’s birthday, after he’d gone out to celebrate with his friends and had a delicious dinner with his family, he went back to his room and checked his phone. He saw it light up with like, a thousand messages, but only one caught his eye.

A _‘happy birthday’_ from Paulo.

There was no smiley face, but there was no full stop either. Just the two words. So Alvaro took that as a sign that maybe Paulo wasn’t that mad. Though even if he was, Alvaro couldn’t blame him. It was Alvaro’s fault.

Alvaro stared at the message until his eyes went blurry with tears, which eventually fell down his cheeks. He didn’t make any move to wipe them away. He felt so surprised and relieved and _happy_ and he just wanted to hug someone, hug _Paulo_ , but he couldn’t so he dove into bed and hugged one of his pillows. Because hey, even though he’d just turned nineteen, he still had feelings, okay.

There were a billion things he wanted to tell Paulo. He wanted to tell Paulo about the new girlfriend he’d got since Paulo left. He wanted to tell Paulo that he’d lost his virginity to her. He wanted to tell Paulo that it was every bit as awkwardly fantastic as Paulo had made it sound. But Alvaro wasn’t even sure anymore if talking about all those things was going to be crossing some imaginary line.

He spent about an hour trying to type a decent reply to Paulo, just typing and backspacing over and over again. He couldn’t decide whether there should be a smiley behind his ‘thank you,’ or a period. Or if he should say something more than just ‘thank you.’ Or if he should just apologise, blurt out everything in a text and make both their lives easier.

Although it took an hour, the decision to call Paulo was still rash.

Paulo answered after the third ring, but didn’t say a word.

“Hey,” Alvaro said hesitantly.

“Happy birthday,” Paulo said.

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered, and he was so overwhelmed he nearly started crying again. “How are you?”

“Good. You? Anyone new?”

Oh, it was like Paulo just _knew_ what Alvaro needed. And Alvaro couldn’t keep it in any longer. He just blurted out _everything_ , the last three months condensed into about three minutes. He went on and on and on and on and he wasn’t even sure if Paulo was even listening anymore when he finally ended it with, “I really missed you, Pau.”

“I can tell,” Paulo gave a forced laugh. And then, softly, “Me, too.”

“How about you?” Alvaro asked. “Anyone new?”

“Not really, just,” Paulo hesitated. “Been around with a few people.”

“Yeah? Guys or girls?”

“Both? Um, more guys. You know. Bars.”

“Gay bars?”

Paulo went silent for a moment, then, “Yeah.”

“Are you even legal?”

“There are ways, Alvaro,” Paulo said. “There are always ways. And I need it, okay?”

“Just. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Yeah.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro started again. “Are you, uh. Still mad?”

“No,” Paulo said gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Just…figuring my life out.”

“It’s okay,” Alvaro whispered, relieved. “I know.”

And he really did. He really understood.

“Did you have a nice day?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro continued whispering because _God_ , he was on the verge of tears. Paulo was so gentle and kind and forgiving and he was _Paulo_ and Alvaro had been such a shitty friend. Paulo was figuring his life out, step by step, painfully, and Alvaro couldn’t be there. Alvaro had gone and screwed it all up. All because he didn’t understand what he and Paulo were and what lines he couldn’t cross. Paulo was hurting and trying to cope with it but Alvaro was. Alvaro was just a piece of crap. “Paulo. I’m so sorry. About everything that happened. I really am, just, so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Paulo said calmly, but even so Alvaro could hear a breath hitch in his throat. “It’s over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

But even he didn’t sound too convinced.

“Three months without a best friend to talk to is just, super crappy, you know?” Alvaro said.

“I know,” Paulo laughed. “Come on. Tell me about all the sex.”

So Alvaro did, and Paulo listened attentively to everything, laughing and pretending to choke and giving dramatic gasps of _‘oh, God’_ at the perfect moments. And then Paulo told Alvaro about all the different people that had come and gone over the same time and how none of them answered any questions Paulo had about his sexuality except that well, Paulo loved having sex.

“You have all the time in the world to figure that out,” Alvaro said.

“You know, you’re the only person who says it like that?” Paulo said. “Every other person’s got it all figured out. And like, I’m still here and I don’t even know what I am.”

“Do we ever?” Alvaro gave a soft laugh. “Know what we are?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said thoughtfully. “Do we?”

There was a period of silence before Alvaro said, “Hey, you stay safe, okay?”

“Yeah. Mariano’s taking me. He’s a great wingman. You two are the only people who know about this.”

“No, I mean, like,” Alvaro waved his hand in a vague gesture that Paulo couldn’t see. “Sexually.”

“Oh,” Paulo chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

And Alvaro was just suddenly so _proud_ of his best friend for handling things like this, for being so brave and so bold. Alvaro knew he was afraid, of course; Alvaro would have been if he were in Paulo’s place. Alvaro was just. Just so happy that Paulo was _here_ and Paulo _existed_ and Paulo saw him trustworthy enough to tell him everything, even though he’d nearly screwed things up forever.

“Hey,” Paulo finally said after Alvaro had been silent for a while. “We okay?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt but yet tears brimming in his eyes at the same time. It’d only been three months, shit, if Paulo didn’t talk to him for _three years_ Alvaro swore they would still be okay. They would always be. “Always.”

That conversation with Paulo was the best present Alvaro got for his birthday that year.

\------

For his eighteenth birthday Paulo thought he wanted to indulge in something…different.

He never went to the same bar twice in the same fortnight. He never gave anyone his name; if he needed to, he gave a different fake name every time. Now that he was on the Instituto senior team and he’d somewhat risen to prominence by breaking the record of youngest goalscorer, Paulo had to be like, a hundred times more careful. Most guys promised confidentiality, anyway. No questions asked, no answers given. And when Mariano was there he’d watch for Paulo’s thumbs up before he was willing to leave.

And then Paulo would leave, too, to get his brains fucked out.

On his eighteenth birthday he was finally officially legal to buy alcohol himself, so despite Mariano’s reluctance to let him go alone, Paulo headed to a bar himself.

He let himself be picked up by this guy called Rico. He was tall and lean and he had the kind of fluffy black hair that reminded Paulo of Alvaro. He knew Paulo as ‘Fabio.’ He brought Paulo to yet another dodgy hostel, but this time they were unlucky and the only room left had twin beds.

“Lots of people getting laid tonight, huh?” Paulo murmured. He sunk himself into Rico’s broad chest.

“Damn fucking right,” Rico muttered. “You’re not a cuddler, are you?”

“No,” Paulo lied, because he totally was. “We can have different beds, no problem.”

And then the thought hit him.

“Uh,” he continued. “Can we, uh. Try something?”

“Fuck, Fabio. I didn’t bring you here to _not_ try something.”

“Okay,” Paulo said, and shoved Rico as hard as he could so he landed on one of the single beds. Then he went over to the other one, lay down on it himself, and wriggled out of his pants. “Jerk yourself off. With me.”

There was a confused pause. “What?” Rico asked.

“You know,” Paulo said, stripping off his underwear. “Put your hand around your cock and make yourself come.”

“I thought you were –“

“I am, okay, later. Just. Just do this first.”

“Man, you’re weird,” Rico said, but did what Paulo told him to. He already had a semi from when Paulo was heavily making out with him at the bar, anyway. That was pretty obvious even without his pants off.

Paulo closed his eyes and listened to all the sounds Rico was making. He wrapped his hand around his dick and started off slowly, timing it to Rico’s loud breathing. He eventually managed to coax his own semi into a full hard-on but man, Rico was way ahead of him. Paulo glanced over and saw him slick with precome and part of him just wanted to go over and blow Rico but part of him was fucking _confused_ as to why he couldn’t replicate the feeling he’d had when he’d jerked off with Alvaro in Valencia and Barcelona.

He returned the focus to himself as Rico became louder. Paulo teased himself just beneath the head, tightening his grip and sliding his foreskin, and giving a soft gasp when a chill ran up his spine. But it still wasn’t it. It wasn’t the right feeling.

He glanced over again just in time for Rico to spill all over himself, one hand still wrapped around his dick and the other clutching his balls, hips stuttering into his own fingers and mouth hanging open in a silent gasp. And Paulo’s dick gave a little twitch but _fuck_ , he couldn’t possibly be any _further_ from an orgasm at that point in time, so he gave up and just sunk back down in bed, his dick flopped over his abdomen like it was unsure of how aroused it was.

“Holy fuck,” Rico breathed, and then Paulo heard him get up and shuffle across to where Paulo was. “You’re one kinky bastard, aren’t you?”

The mattress sunk a little as Rico put his arms on both sides of Paulo’s head. Paulo opened his eyes and saw Rico hovering above him, his eyes dark and mysterious and like, so fucking ready for another round.

So Paulo reached up and got a grip of the back of Rico’s head, tugging him downwards and shoving his tongue into Rico’s mouth. He closed his eyes and let Rico drown him, drown him in his grasps, his breaths against Paulo’s skin, his lips on Paulo’s jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, his lips surrounding Paulo’s dick, working it up again.

He closed his eyes and let Rico take him, take _Fabio_ , wherever he wanted. He tried to forget his discovery that masturbating with someone else in the room only worked, only gave him that fifth-dimension shit, when it was Alvaro he was doing it with.

He closed his eyes and imagined that strong, black-haired man holding him down on the bed was Alvaro.

It wasn’t that Rico was bad at sex or whatever. Rico was great. He was perfect. He was just missing one thing. The one thing that all of Paulo’s hook-ups had been missing.

He wasn’t Alvaro.

Paulo came with a shout adequately muffled by Rico’s palm over his mouth. He didn’t even open his eyes, just wrapped his arms around Rico and let Rico collapse on top of him. He didn’t want to be alone. Not for a second.

“You said you weren’t a cuddler,” Rico murmured against Paulo’s cheek.

“There’s so much space, why the fuck not?”

And Rico laughed, and they grinded against each other for a while, and pretty soon it was time for round two. And round three. And round fucking seven, or whatever, Paulo didn’t really care. He let Rico fuck him into oblivion, fuck him into forgetting where he was and who he was with, fuck him into completely forgetting that he’d told Alvaro it was over when in fact, it might be far from that.

\------

Alvaro’s girlfriend didn’t last until Valentines’ day and Paulo – well, Paulo was still Paulo. They spent Valentines’ day Skyping each other, talking about nothing.

“Aren’t you going to go out and get laid or whatever?” Paulo asked. Because Alvaro seemed to like that. You know, talking about sex. And doing it.

“Nah, bars will be crowded,” Alvaro replied. “And hooking up on v-day is like, the cheesiest thing. You?”

“First, it’s like two in the afternoon. And second, I’m just not in the mood.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said. “Been thinking too much again?”

God, sometimes Paulo hated how well Alvaro knew him.

“When am I _not_ thinking too much?”

“True,” Alvaro sighed, teasingly annoyed. “Well, what are you thinking about?”

Okay, so it wasn’t as if Paulo could _tell_ Alvaro what he was thinking about. But he guessed Alvaro could handle at least some of it.

“I’m just tired, you know?” Paulo started. “Like. Tired of fooling around with random dudes and chicks. Okay, more of random dudes. I want something…real. I don’t want to be thinking about a new fake name and finding a new bar to go to. I don’t want to wake up to some guy I only know the name of and having to leave in the morning. I want…just. Something real. You know?”

“Like a boyfriend?” Alvaro asked, and Paulo’s heart did this stupid flip.

“Yeah, I guess,” Paulo ran a hand through his hair, which was all grown out nicely by then. Alvaro had said it looked boyish, and Paulo had decided he was going to keep this hairstyle forever. “But then again, I don’t know. I can’t…do this feeling thing. Not with guys.”

“So a girlfriend?” was Alvaro’s next prompt, and _God_ , that was exactly Paulo’s train of thought.

“Okay, so this is like, kinda weird, but hear me out, okay?” Paulo asked, and Alvaro gave a soft grunt in response. “I like guys. I’ve mostly been picking up guys. But then. That’s all there is. I’m just picking up guys and like, going through all the gay guys in Córdoba one by one, I don’t even fucking know. I don’t have feelings for any of them. But when it comes to girls, I do. Like, it’s sex when it comes to guys, but it’s sex _and feelings_ when it comes to girls.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said thoughtfully. “Well. Isn’t that confusing?”

“Tell me about it.”

“You need to have a threesome,” Alvaro suggested.

“Fuck you,” Paulo said, and Alvaro burst into laughter.

“I know, I know, _not everything is about sex, Alvaro!_ ” Alvaro said, in the perfect impersonation of Paulo’s voice.

“Why am I even friends with you?” Paulo questioned. “God. I hate you so much.”

“Hey, look,” Alvaro said. “I know I’ve said this a million times. But you’ll figure it out, okay? I’m very proud of you for coming this far. And whatever you do, you know I’ll be a hundred percent there behind you. Just, like, use a fucking condom, okay?”

And Paulo looked at Alvaro through his screen and he suddenly felt this burst of affection. It wasn’t that kinda affection he’d felt for Alvaro _his crush_. It was an affection for Alvaro _his best friend_.

“Thank you,” he whispered. It suddenly didn’t matter so much that he didn’t and perhaps would never have Alvaro in the way he wanted. Everything was so trivial. Fifth-dimension orgasms included. Nothing mattered as long as he had Alvaro in any way he could get him. Maybe Paulo could deal with all the heart flipping and whatever. Maybe it’d take some time. Maybe it took more than all the false starts Paulo had had so far. But Paulo thought, for the first time, that it was actually _possible_. After all, _not everything was about sex_.

Alvaro grinned, completely oblivious to how deep in thought Paulo was. “And hey, you know. You have so many people to choose from. Guys, girls, whatever. The world is your oyster. You’ll find someone.”

But then, maybe Paulo would always be in love with Alvaro. Maybe Alvaro would always be his someone. Maybe that was one thing he couldn’t let go of. And maybe, all he could do was try and live with it.


	15. The Dreaming Of Escape Will Keep You Up At Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Birds by Coldplay.
> 
> Okay, so since some of you have mentioned about lyrics as titles (thank you so much for commenting on it btw), and also because this is like the third time I'm using a line from Birds - I'd just like to say that I wrote this fic with this song in my mind and it's become like a soundtrack for this fic, music and lyrics and all. I think it really fits their relationship and perhaps how this fic will end? :') So, make of that what you want, but I am always looking forward to hear your comments/discuss what you think about this. Thank you so much once again!

Paulo had to stop going to bars so frequently when he shot to massive fame in the spring.

It was just as well, because he was jaded from all the sneaking around. From all the anonymity. From not being able to just _be himself_.

He scored his second hat trick of the season and netted in six consecutive games, and his seat on top of the world was pretty much secure.

He just wished he had someone to share it with.

Okay, so Paulo had Alvaro. Alvaro, who couldn’t stop calling him all the time and gushing over how great Paulo was and how proud Alvaro was of him. Who never failed to make Paulo grateful it was just a phone call because he was blushing so hard. Who made Paulo feel so _wanted_ and so appreciated as a person and not just a footballer.

Paulo was happy. He was _really, really_ happy. He felt that for once in his life, everything was going the way he wanted it to go. He had the best friend in the entire world and he was living his dream. His father’s dream.

But being on the phone constantly with Alvaro (well, it certainly felt like it was happening constantly, because of the timezones) meant that he had barely enough time for _himself_. Many times he would have to quit jerking off because a call from Alvaro was coming in. And Paulo would want to tell Alvaro he was busy and hang up but when he heard Alvaro’s voice he became physically unable to do so.

When April rolled around Alvaro got himself a new girl and called Paulo to talk about it.

“I kinda like her,” Alvaro said, and under normal circumstances it would have made Paulo burn with jealousy but right then _other parts_ of him were burning and Paulo couldn’t hold back from moving his hand down his length.

“Yeah?” Paulo breathed, hoping it wasn’t too obvious.

And then Alvaro launched into a full-blown description of the sex they’d had, which, well, was pretty normal for their phone conversations. But Paulo froze with his hand on his dick, suddenly really confused because like, this was _great_. This was like audio porn. From _Alvaro_. Who was frankly the worst person to give audio porn because he slurred his words so much but. Paulo loved it.

Paulo glided his palm over his dick and caused himself to buck forward. His thighs were beginning to hurt from all the effort they were making to keep still, and his bottom lip was stinging so he had a feeling he’d bitten it open. But he continued, curling his fingers around his length and pleasuring it along with Alvaro’s voice, describing all the new things he’d tried out that night.

In his feverish state he managed to turn on the speaker mode, dump the phone somewhere on the bed next to him and stuff his left fist into his mouth so he wouldn’t yell into Alvaro’s ear. Alvaro continued, completely oblivious, and so did Paulo.

He bit little dents into his fingers when he came, Alvaro still chattering on endlessly. That was it. It was that out-of-this-world orgasm that he had been searching for all this time. He’d finally found it again – with Alvaro’s voice in his ear.

Paulo examined his fingers and found little spots of blood on them from his lip. He sighed. Maybe he should have felt helpless or upset or _dirty_ but he didn’t. He felt more satisfied than ever. In all the sexual encounters he’d had over the almost two years since he’d been with Alvaro, he had never had an orgasm like _that_.

He wished it wasn’t true. He wished that he didn’t have to fucking _depend_ on Alvaro for these things. He wished he knew how it was like to crave for someone besides Alvaro. Crave for someone who actually _wanted him back_.

He reached around to grope for a towel and accidentally swept his phone off the bed. It fell to the ground with a clatter and Alvaro’s voice stopped, and for a moment Paulo thought he’d wrecked his phone.

And then Alvaro said, from the ground where the phone was, “Oi. Did you fucking fall asleep?”

Paulo burst into laughter, and literally all the tension completely disappeared. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. After all Paulo had come to grips with the fact that this desperate ache that pooled in his chest whenever Alvaro was around was going to stay there forever.

“No,” he said as he snatched the phone off the ground. “Dropped my phone. Continue.”

And Paulo closed his eyes and listened to Alvaro talk and talk and talk, because after all Paulo’s sanity depended on Alvaro’s voice.

What made it complicated was that Alvaro’s voice was also the very thing that drove Paulo insane.

\------

It made up for all the hook-ups Paulo was missing out on.

It became more and more frequent – not Alvaro’s _audio porn_ , but Paulo’s…physical companion to Alvaro’s voice. Paulo asked himself why he hadn’t thought of this earlier; after all, Alvaro _loved_ talking about sex.

It happened sometimes even when Alvaro wasn’t even talking about sex, and that was when Paulo knew he was in trouble. Alvaro didn’t seem to find anything suspicious – which was about right, since he was the one doing the talking most of the time while Paulo just listened.

One day the audio porn _was_ happening, and Paulo accidentally let slip this soft tortured sound as he teased the head of his dick. Alvaro stopped talking, and Paulo wished he could say he stopped pounding his dick but he didn’t.

“Uh,” Alvaro finally said. “Is this uncomfortable for you? I’ll stop.”

“No,” Paulo practically snapped. He was _so close_. “No. Continue. Please.”

“Are you okay? Are you –“ Alvaro paused, and Paulo could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Then he gasped, and said in a whisper, “ _Jerking off?_ ”

And simultaneously, like the thrill of doing it practically right under Alvaro’s nose _and_ the accompanying excitement of being caught had finally completely overwhelmed him, Paulo came.

“Fuck,” Paulo said between his teeth as he shuddered, spilling all over his own hand. He arched his hips off the bed. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Alvaro went quiet as Paulo hissed incoherent breaths through his teeth. He’d already been caught _anyway_ , so he might as well make the best of it. No more hiding or stuffing his fist in his mouth. Paulo was _free_.

“Well, this is fucking disturbing,” he heard Alvaro say as he tried to descend quietly. “Paulo, what the fuck.”

Paulo opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of anything to say, so he shut it again. He wasn’t sure if Alvaro was mad. Or disgusted. Or anything of the sort.

But then Alvaro actually started _laughing_. He laughed so hard he was practically choking on his own spit and he was saying something Paulo couldn’t understand, and Paulo was confused as fuck and it was his turn to say, “Alvaro, what the fuck.”

“No, I just,” Alvaro _giggled_. “What, like this is audio porn?”

“It _literally is_ ,” Paulo pointed out.

And Alvaro burst into laughter again and Paulo rolled his eyes. He felt a blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks because even though Alvaro had seen and heard him in many more states of undress than _this_ , it was still embarrassing as fuck. Paulo decided that Alvaro would _never_ know about how often Paulo actually did it.

“You do this all the time?” Alvaro asked, like he was a mind-reader or whatever.

“Nah,” Paulo said dismissively. “You know, just. Most times you catch me in the middle of it and. Yeah.”

“Is it good?” Alvaro continued. He sounded genuinely interested. “Like. Like Barcelona-and-Valencia good?”

Paulo smiled because Alvaro _remembered_. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Alvaro went silent, and Paulo wondered again if this was it. If this was the point where he had finally pushed everything over some imaginary line. If Alvaro finally realised that he couldn’t take this, his best friend being gay for him.

“Uh,” Alvaro said after a while, and Paulo squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the worst. “I, um. Wanna try. If that’s okay.”

Paulo’s eyes shot open. “Try what?” he squeaked.

“What you’re doing.”

“Are you being serious?” Paulo asked.

“Jerking off is serious business, Paulo,” Alvaro said, and Paulo could practically _see_ him rolling his eyes.

“No, I just,” Paulo laughed. “I thought you were gonna be mad or something.”

“Why would I be mad?” Alvaro said softly, and _God_ , _this_ was why Paulo loved him. “C’mon. Do it with me.”

“No, fuck, I just finished. I can’t.”

“I know you can,” Alvaro said, and there was the sound of a zipper like he was taking his pants off. “Paulo. Come on.”

“How about I just talk about it?” Paulo suggested. He was pretty exhausted and the relief he was feeling about Alvaro’s reaction wasn’t helping him to overcome the drowsiness.

“That work?” Alvaro asked, and then seemed to remember what Paulo had been doing all this while. “What the fuck, of course it does.”

“Don’t you have a _girlfriend_?”

“Yeah, and I’m cheating on her with _myself_ ,” Alvaro said sarcastically. “The _horror_.”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Do you want me to talk about sex or not?”

“Just fucking do it,” Alvaro hissed, and Paulo knew he already had his hand on his dick.

So Paulo did, he talked randomly about the sex he’d had, the new things he’d tried, and holy _fuck_ , he didn’t remember Alvaro being so _loud_. Paulo was almost ready for round two. And then he was.

“God, I hate you,” Paulo stopped his story to say.

“What, you up again?” Alvaro breathed.

“All your fucking fault.”

“Well,” Alvaro said. “Be as loud as you can.”

And it wasn’t like Paulo was going to try to contain himself anymore, now that Alvaro knew anyway. So he was loud, and Alvaro was loud, and Alvaro yelled at him again that it wasn’t a competition, and fuck, Paulo literally had no idea _what_ Alvaro wanted from him, honestly.

He came to the sound of Alvaro cursing and groaning and gasping for air like he was actually really having sex on the other side instead of just jacking himself off. Paulo turned his face into the pillow as he spilled over his hand for the second time, face contorted in a grimace and free hand clutching the sheets inches away from where the phone was, on speaker again. It might have been good when Alvaro was talking, but man, it was _heavenly_ when Alvaro was doing it _with him_.

Paulo heard Alvaro picking up the phone again, and then there were a few seconds of just whooshing noises as Alvaro breathed loudly into the speaker.

“Well,” Alvaro finally said, very evidently trying to act all calm and composed but failing epically. “Valencia and Barcelona indeed.”

Paulo smiled. He loved how comfortable they were around each other. Even things like this became absolutely normal to talk about. You know, save for the violently pounding of Paulo’s heart, like Paulo was supposed to be prepared to see it leap out and hit the ceiling above him. Save for Paulo still unfailingly wishing that this was real. “Yeah,” he replied.

“You’re the best, Pau,” Alvaro sighed, falling into his characteristic post-coital doze. “Paulo. Only you.”

Paulo clutched at the sheets again, his chest tightening. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt that if he even took one soft breath, the world would come crashing down around him. The room began spinning so he closed his eyes, but he was still unable to dodge the humbling thought that robbed him of every ability to move or speak: no matter how hard he tried to escape, how many random men he picked up at gay bars, how many women he tried to build a concrete relationship with, or how many times he jerked off to Alvaro’s voice, there was one thing he couldn’t escape – the void in him, the Alvaro-shaped void of unrequited love.

Alvaro fell asleep while he was still on the line. Paulo was still clutching on to the sheets like his life depended on it. Like if he let go, he’d fall down into some deep abyss that only Alvaro could get him out of, but which Alvaro _wouldn’t_.

He made sure Alvaro’s sleepy breathing was convincingly steady before he whispered, to no reply, “Then why don’t you want me?”

He hung up the phone, dumped it on the table, and rolled over. He fell asleep in a sticky pile of tears and sweat and come, and he hated that one person could single-handedly cause all of that.

\------

Thing is, Alvaro never once doubted his own sexuality.

He’d had a host of girlfriends and he wasn’t short of confidence. He knew what he wanted and he went out and got it.

Then again there was Paulo, and Paulo was…well, Paulo was Paulo. Alvaro couldn’t for the life of him figure out exactly what his feelings for Paulo meant. He was Alvaro’s friend, but he was also more than that. He was something Alvaro couldn’t have. Something Alvaro wasn’t sure if he wanted to have. Part of Alvaro thought maybe he was overthinking it and confusing friendly feelings with romantic feelings – after all he had never had a _stable_ romantic relationship.

But Paulo was different. Paulo had practically spent his entire life trying to find himself and Alvaro had witnessed almost every step of it. And somehow Alvaro understood everything, even though he had never experienced it himself.

Paulo never talked about his own feelings ever since that fight they’d had at the Madrid airport. Alvaro felt a twinge of guilt whenever he thought about it. Maybe that reckless kiss had forever pushed Paulo away in a way that barely had an effect on their friendship but which still existed. Like a nagging back itch when you were just about to fall asleep. Or a harmless scratch on your phone screen that was inexplicably hard to ignore. It was undetectable, but it was _there._

And because of that, Alvaro would probably never know if Paulo still liked him that way.

Alvaro enjoyed the bursts of feeling that Paulo gave him, though. He liked that Paulo could make him happy just by being happy himself. He liked that he could get excited about literally the tiniest things just because Paulo was excited.

So when he read that Palermo – Palermo, _Italy, literally three hours away from Alvaro_ – had bought Paulo, he almost fell off the bed in his rush to dump his laptop and pick up his phone.

“You’re coming to Italy?” Alvaro squealed when Paulo picked up the phone.

“What?” Paulo said, and then a short period of silence later, “Oh, that. Yeah, I don’t know. Things are still being settled.”

“But they said they’ve bought you?” Alvaro asked. “Oh, Paulo. Please tell me you’re coming.”

Paulo gave a little laugh. “I hope, Alvi. I really do.”

“We could hang out,” Alvaro said in wonder. “You know? Like for real. We can hang out.”

“I know,” Paulo said, so softly and so tenderly like he felt exactly the same way. “I’ll make it work, okay? Alvi. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. He knew Paulo would. Because Paulo was the most determined, most strong-willed person in Alvaro’s entire world and if he wanted something, Alvaro could be sure he would definitely get it.

But it wasn’t that easy this time round. It wasn’t easy _at all_.

Paulo spent the entire summer dealing with all the red tape his move to Italy brought up. He’d wanted to get a Polish passport because of his grandfather, but in all the rush of the move he couldn’t get the required documents.

Alvaro spent every day by the laptop or phone waiting for Paulo’s email or text update. Days passed at a time before Alvaro received something. He was getting desperate, but he knew calling Paulo wouldn’t help either of them. Alvaro knew how upset Paulo had been when he found out he couldn’t get the Polish passport he’d always wanted, that he couldn’t get the chance to choose between his grandpa’s Poland and his Argentina. Even though the choice in Paulo’s mind was pretty obvious to Alvaro – he’d choose Argentina. It would always be Argentina. _His Argentina._

He hoped and prayed and _desperately wished_ that despite all this trouble, Paulo could make it. That he could play in Europe, where dreams came true; where he could live his dream, his father’s dream.

When Alvaro finally received a text containing a photograph of Paulo’s shining new Italian passport, courtesy of his mom’s roots, he almost burst into tears of joy. It felt like a huge rock had been lifted off his shoulders. Alvaro felt incredibly silly – it wasn’t even _his_ passport. It literally didn’t affect where Alvaro played.

A week of radio silence later he received another text saying, _I’m coming!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Alvaro spent the entire day smiling. He wasn’t even the least bit embarrassed. He went around the house telling everyone about it over and over again and after a while they just ignored him but he was just so _happy_ and eventually he just flopped over on his bed, his cheeks numb from smiling so much.

Alvaro might have spent his entire summer doing nothing but waiting, but it was the most fruitful summer of his life.

\------

Alvaro flew all the way to Palermo by himself to meet Paulo at the airport.

He was pretty surprised when Paulo told him he could do that. Paulo was taking a private flight but had specifically requested for permission for one person to receive him at the VIP arrivals, and _man_ , Alvaro had the _best friend_ in the entire world, hands down.

Alvaro stood anxiously in the sparkling clean arrival hall holding a lame cardboard sign that read ‘Paulo’ in his very best handwriting. He felt silly. He was literally the only person in the entire room. Even if Paulo had been blind, he still wouldn’t have missed Alvaro.

Well, that would be mostly because Alvaro would be fucking _screaming his head off_ , but.

But Alvaro just wanted to do something nice for his best friend. After all, Paulo _did_ mean the world to him, and now he’d flown  _half the world_ and invited Alvaro to be the first one to see him.

Paulo eventually appeared, flanked by his mom and his agent – Alvaro couldn’t believe Paulo had _an agent_. Well, Alvaro had one too, but. Paulo was _tiny_. He was like a baby. Or a very small child. What did he even need an agent for? To decide the type of toys he should buy?

Anyway, Paulo was distracted by conversation until he stepped out through the sliding door and saw Alvaro and his stupid piece of white cardboard. He burst into laughter when Alvaro gave it a little wiggle, and then proceeded to drop all his bags and run straight into Alvaro’s arms.

“Hey,” he whispered, pushing his face into Alvaro’s chest. It was a familiar feeling, a pool of warmth right where Paulo was touching him. Alvaro could barely believe it, that Paulo was _right there_ and Alvaro was _holding him_. He felt like he had to pinch himself to see if this was real, that the floaty feeling in his head and the fuzzy feeling in his chest that were both about to knock him out weren’t because this was just a really nice dream.

“Hi,” Alvaro tightened his arms around Paulo. “Hey. Hi.”

Paulo gave a little chuckle. “Very eloquent.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro said, and then pulled away from the hug to examine Paulo at arm’s length. Man, Paulo had _grown_. He was taller and darker, and his hair was nice and short and not like a lion anymore, and his eyes were brighter. Alvaro had seen him practically every other day over Skype but now he saw all these details up close, and he felt warm inside again, being reunited with Paulo, like Paulo was a missing jigsaw piece. Like he was a real, physical assurance that good things existed. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” Paulo said sheepishly. He moved closer to examine Alvaro’s face. “Okay, now I get what you meant when you said you’re _trying to grow a beard_.”

Alvaro rolled his eyes. “Apparently I’m still too young for the fucking hair to grow.”

“The key word is _trying_.”

Alvaro punched him on the shoulder, and then Paulo’s mom and the agent got to where they were, and Paulo’s mom hugged Alvaro and thanked him for everything. Even though Alvaro wasn’t sure he actually _did anything_.

“C’mon,” Paulo said, hooking his arm in Alvaro’s as they started to head out to the waiting car. “Lots to catch up on.”

Which was both a truth and a lie, because their daily catch-up sessions had been so rudely interrupted by all the Italian stuff. But if what they’d gotten in return was a thousand and a half kilometres between them instead of ten thousand, then Alvaro would be willing to do it a million times over.

Well, maybe not a million times. Maybe three times.

The entire car ride back to the hotel Paulo was staying in was silent, the agent in the front seat, Paulo’s mom behind him, and Alvaro and Paulo just sitting there grinning stupidly at each other.

By the time they reached the hotel Alvaro had made up his mind – screw the three times. Screw the million times, even. If he had to do it a _trillion times_ , he would.


	16. I Can't Tell You What It Really Is, I Can Only Tell You What It Feels Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! This set of chapter notes is gonna be long, so I'm sorry in advance for boring you haha.
> 
> Firstly, thank you for all your nice comments and for those about Birds being my ~theme song~ for this fic! I'm glad you guys like it! If you guys are still interested, there are a couple other songs which I never fail to associate with these two dumbs. The first is Fire And The Flood by Vance Joy and the second is [this cover of Runnin' (Lose It All)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fM1gfsBxBQ). I hope you guys like them!
> 
> Secondly, I don't know if you've noticed the other relationships I've listed besides dybata, but this chapter is when I finally introduce the other two! Both in the same chapter, can you believe it? Hahahaha. Anyways, just to clarify things, I'm aware that Franco left for Rayo Vallecano on loan in 2012. But in the case of this fic, he doesn't; his loan doesn't happen. 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all your wonderful support, it never fails to make me smile. I hope you enjoy this one too :)
> 
> Title is from Love The Way You Lie by Eminem ft. Rihanna.

Alvaro went down with Paulo and his mom to sign Paulo’s contract. He stuck to Paulo like a pest. But well, Paulo was severely jet-lagged for the first three days, so he was no fun at all. Alvaro sought entertainment by sitting next to him and watching him sleep, like some creep.

When Paulo finally got his lazy bum out of bed, the three of them went sightseeing and Paulo even looked at a few places he could get. He’d wanted one with space for his mom because she was thinking of moving over with him, and with space for his brothers when they came over to visit.

“Do I count as one of your brothers?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna find a house with five fucking rooms,” Paulo said. “Look, you’re gonna have to sleep on the couch.”

Alvaro punched him on the shoulder. “You know that’s totally possible, right? Also, your brothers can share a room.”

“So you can have a room to yourself?”

“Of course,” Alvaro said proudly.

Sadly, Paulo only managed to find an apartment to rent by the time Alvaro went back to Spain. It had two bedrooms, so. Too bad for Alvaro. He’d be the sacrifice when there was more than one guest.

When Paulo called Alvaro to tell him (he _loved_ that he could call or Skype Alvaro literally any time he wanted now), Alvaro appeared unfazed. Well, as unfazed as he always appeared to be.

“I can always sleep in your bed,” he said. “I know I’m always welcome.”

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut as his heart did this incredibly violent flip. Of course Alvaro was always welcome. He would always be. It was just that Paulo and Alvaro had different definitions of ‘welcome.’

“Yeah,” he finally managed to say. “Yeah. You are.”

There was a brief silence, then, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said again, this time with a soft sigh. “Well. I, um. Should go.”

“Wait,” Alvaro said. “No. You sure?”

“Mmhmm,” Paulo mumbled, even though all he wanted to say was _no, you don’t fucking say things like this to me and expect me to be okay._

“Okay,” was all that came from Alvaro.

Paulo hung up without saying bye and lay down on his bed clutching his sheets so hard his fingers went numb, wishing Alvaro understood this part of Paulo just like he understood every other part of Paulo. Wishing that being so close to Alvaro wasn't worse than being far away from him.

\------

Of course, Paulo couldn’t really say he was settled in Sicily unless he found some place to satisfy his sexual cravings.

It was getting harder, though, because staying hidden in the Italian football world was different from staying hidden in the Argentine football world. Paulo couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched everywhere he went.

Even in his freaking _hotel room_ , where he couldn’t even jerk off in peace because Franco hovered over him like some kind of annoying wasp.

It was no surprise that Paulo and Franco grew close so quickly. They were always put together and Franco spoke Spanish, and they’d first met also at that exchange they did in Spain, though they’d barely spoken a word to each other in 2009 because they were both just so fucking introverted. But retrospectively Paulo realised they had a lot in common. Franco had a national team dilemma too, for one, and had never played in any youth team. And he liked Legos, like Paulo. Paulo felt like with Franco around, he had a piece of home.

But Franco was a light sleeper and he slept late, and Paulo could find literally _no_ free time to himself whenever they were playing away, which, unfortunately, was when Paulo needed it the most. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and, after a stinging loss to Bologna three days after his nineteenth birthday, it all crashed down on Paulo. He needed release, and he knew the best way to get it. He stepped into the shower and felt himself completely relax once he found his rhythm.

Well, that was until Franco walked into the bathroom _while Paulo was doing it_.

It was kinda rude, but. Paulo didn’t blame him. It wasn’t as if Paulo never walked into the bathroom while Franco was using it. But he was just surprised.

He couldn’t just _be quiet_ , because he was already so fucking _close_. He only needed to gently brush his hand over his dick one more time before he came, his come mixing with the shower water as he desperately tried – and failed – to keep himself quiet. He shoved his fist in his mouth as he gasped, his breaths stuttering, soft mutters of “fuck, fuck, holy fucking shit” escaping his lips.

Through the shower curtain Paulo saw Franco freeze, and he saw Franco’s eyes widen through the narrow sliver of mirror Paulo could see. And then Franco dashed out the bathroom again with the parting whisper of “holy fuck, I’m sorry.”

Paulo froze, too, not entirely sure if he should finish up and get outside or take his sweet time so Franco would hopefully be asleep by the time he went out. He stood in the shower, letting the warm water batter his back, panting for more reasons than one, his heart fucking _thumping_ in his chest.

He took his time to wash himself clean and get dressed, not because he was afraid but because he was simply still in shock. When he finally made it outside, Franco was fucking sitting on the edge of his own bed and _staring_ at him. He didn’t look one bit embarrassed, like Paulo thought he should have been. Paulo thought maybe he shouldn’t have stayed so long in the shower. It’d given Franco time to _plan._

Paulo sat down gingerly on his bed, like if he moved too quickly it would ruin this peace him and Franco seemed to currently have. He sat with his back against the headboard and gave a soft sigh.

Franco got up and sat on the edge of Paulo’s bed instead, and Paulo braced himself – only for Franco to suddenly reach over and cup Paulo’s cheek with one hand.

“You know, I could help you with that,” he whispered.

Fuck, Paulo couldn’t deny that he had a thing for older, bigger men. Especially when they were sitting inches away from him and looking at him with big, eager brown eyes, like a German shepherd. He couldn’t deny that he’d always imagined how Franco’s big hands would feel on his body. How his weight would completely engulf Paulo the way he liked.

He dipped his gaze downwards to avoid Franco’s intense gaze, only to have Franco tug at his chin so he’d look back up. Right them Franco had complete control of Paulo and Paulo had no idea _how_ , just that he _liked it_.

So without any conscious effort, he nodded.

And the orgasm he’d had in the shower turned out to only be the first of many more that night.

\------

Paulo thought things would be awkward with Franco after that night, but he was far from right. Firstly, Franco just continued treating him like before; they had been good friends and they continued being good friends, training together and hanging out together, alone or with their teammates.

Secondly, because that night in Bologna wasn’t the only time.

Paulo and Franco at night was a completely different story from Paulo and Franco in the day. They did it after important, massive wins. They did it after scalding losses. They did it after boring, useless draws. They did it after exhausting training sessions because, no matter how the day had went, they would always have energy for each other.

But it was a completely sexual relationship, though. Neither of them made any move to take it to the next emotional level – Franco just wasn’t the type of guy; Paulo, of course, still had Alvaro.

He ended up telling all of it, all of the things between him and Alvaro, to Franco one spring night as they lay next to each other, naked and satisfied and staring breathlessly up at the ceiling of their hotel room in Turin.

“Dude,” was all Franco said.

Then they lay in silence until Paulo said, “I told him about you.”

“What did he say?”

Paulo shrugged. “Just. Typical Alvaro stuff. He knows I sleep with men. He’s okay with it.”

“Because he doesn’t care or because he accepts it?”

Paulo went silent. He’d never actually thought about it that way. Maybe the reason why Alvaro was so accommodating to Paulo’s sexual habits was because he really didn’t give a flying fuck about Paulo. Maybe it’d always been Paulo making up stories in his head to make himself feel better.

But then again, it was Alvaro. What they had was special, even though it had amounted to nothing in the end. It was no surprise that Alvaro was as okay as he was about Paulo having a fuck buddy. After all, Alvaro was the only person in the world who understood and accepted Paulo as the entire package he was, and not just the bits and pieces that he liked.

“Do you wish I was him?” Franco asked when Paulo hadn’t replied.

Paulo turned and saw that Franco was just staring at him again. He liked to do that. And whenever he did, Paulo would be under his complete control, like Franco had cast a spell. Paulo shrugged.

“You do, don’t you?” Franco whispered. He slid closer to Paulo and grasped Paulo’s chin. “You wish I was Alvaro fucking Morata and it tears you apart inside to open your eyes and realise that I am not. That I am just plain old Franco Vazquez, your fuck buddy from Palermo. That you need to be pinned down and fucked hard and you’d let any guy do it to you as long as you can imagine him to be Alvaro.”

Paulo shut his eyes, but Franco gave his chin a jerk, urging him to open them again. His eyes were so dark, they were basically black. They bore a hole in Paulo as Paulo found himself unable to look away from them.

“Make it better,” Paulo whispered.

Franco obliged.

And Paulo closed his eyes again as he was kissed mercilessly, shoved around hard, and fucked raw, allowing himself to live out the routine Franco had just described so accurately.

\------

It turned out Paulo didn’t have to worry about the bed thing after all, because Alvaro only visited him twice that season. Mostly it was Paulo flying over to Madrid when they had a break and wanted to see each other, because after all Alvaro was the one with a proper house. _And_ had broken up with every girl he’d been with that year, no less.

But soon the novelty of actually physically spending time together wore off, because their times were finally synced and the one phone call that usually separated Paulo and Alvaro was no longer something either of them had to ponder and hesitate over. When it was morning, it was _morning_. Not _oh fuck, it’s four am in Argentina_.

So Alvaro couldn’t help but be surprised when, after almost a year since the last time, he received a call from Paulo at three in the morning.

There was no sound initially, just the very vague sound of Paulo breathing. Then, very softly, “Alvi.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said gently. “Hey. What happened?”

Though he probably already had a pretty good idea about it. After all, Palermo had been lounging at the bottom of the table since literally the first day of the season.

“Do you think I’m ready for this?” Paulo asked. “I mean. Here. I came all the way here.”

_And I’m going to be relegated_ , Alvaro heard, even though Paulo hadn’t said it.

“Hasn’t it always been your dream?” Alvaro asked. “Europe?”

“It has, it still is. I just. I’m so…I’m so tired. This is so hard. It’s so different from what I’ve imagined.”

“Of course it is. Nothing is ever what we imagine.”

“I just. Like. I gave up my entire life to come here. My home.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “I know. And it’s because you want to build your _new home_ here, Paulo, remember that? Remember what you’ve wanted, what your dad’s always wanted for you? I’m sure he never taught you to give up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he didn’t.”

“Look,” Alvaro sat up in bed. He had never experienced anything like, or even remotely close to, relegation – not with Real Madrid, he definitely wasn’t ever going to experience that. And he’d practically never played football for a team that wasn’t in his country, so he could never come across as genuine. But for Paulo, he would try. “Nothing like this is ever easy. Moving so far away, starting afresh, everything. I’ve never done it before but Paulo. I’m here, okay? You know I’m here. I’ll always be, and I know you’re tired but this isn’t a reason to give up on your dream. Please never, ever doubt yourself, Paulo, because you are so great and I have so much faith in you and I wish you could see it. Relegation doesn’t mean the end. As they always say, there’s always next year, right? And you’re only nineteen. You have many ‘next year’s to come.”

Paulo gave a little sad sigh. He sounded a little choked up and sniffly and in general, in much distress. “I guess, yeah,” he finally whispered.

“Paulo. I know you can do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course. You’re my best friend in this entire world and I am so proud of you, Pau.”

Paulo chuckled. “Alvi. I’m so glad I met you.”

“I’m very glad I met you, too,” Alvaro smiled. All he wanted was for Paulo to be happy because he saw in Paulo so many things Paulo couldn’t see himself. He saw kindness and generosity and compassion and the biggest heart of anyone he knew; he saw an inherent beauty that wasn’t just his piercing green eyes but _all of him_ , his heart and mind and soul. And Paulo deserved everything he had, he deserved _more_ , he deserved everything he had been working towards. “Hey. Chin up, Pau. Look forward.”

“I am. I will. It’s just. Nothing’s the same.”

“One thing’s the same,” Alvaro assured him. “Us.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered, and Alvaro heard the smile in his voice. “Well, yeah. Try as I might, I’ve never been able to shake you off.”

“Wow, fuck you, I tried so hard and this is what I get?” Alvaro laughed. He was glad Paulo was at least in the mood to joke. And although he was reluctant to admit it, part of him was _overjoyed_ that Paulo called _him_ out of everybody else he knew.

Paulo gave a little giggle. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Nah. Come on, go back to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

There was a soft grunt of agreement, and then hesitantly, “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

Then came the longest pause Alvaro had ever experienced in his life; maybe it was the time of the night that distorted it but Alvaro could practically swear he could count the beats of his heart through the pulse in his wrist as he held his phone to his ear, waiting.

“Uh,” Paulo finally said, his voice breaking. “Nothing. Good night, Alvi. Thank you so much.”

And Alvaro hung up the phone, vaguely confused but managing to fall into a sleep in which he dreamt of him and Paulo playing football together for the same team again.

\------

Of _course_ , when Alvaro came over in the summer of 2013 after winning the U-21 Euros, Paulo’s guest room was occupied by Mariano and it was either the couch or a hotel for Alvaro. He wanted the couch but come on. He was Paulo’s guest and Paulo would never make him do that. Plus, maybe Alvaro deserved a reward for his performance at the tournament, even though Paulo didn’t appreciate Alvaro waving his medal and top scorer trophy in his face. Especially not after Paulo’s Palermo had just suffered a painful relegation.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he told Alvaro.

“Look, it’s fine, I’ll go get a room somewhere,” Alvaro said, standing awkwardly at the front door with his bag.

“Just take the offer, okay? I want you here.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled and Paulo’s chest did that dumb fluttering thing again. “Yeah. Okay.”

So that night Paulo settled into his couch with an extra blanket while Alvaro made himself comfortable in Paulo’s bed. But try as he might Paulo just couldn’t fall asleep; he would very much have rather been up with Alvaro talking crap like they usually did. But Alvaro had looked really tired and Paulo would rather toss and turn on the couch than go bug him in his sleep.

The living room clock read somewhere past one in the morning when Paulo finally gave up trying to sleep and got up to get a glass of water. Maybe he’d watch TV or whatever.

But on his way to the kitchen there was some shuffling down the hall, and suddenly Alvaro was standing in front of him, looking tired but not sleepy, a hand ruffling his overgrown hair back on his head as he gazed at Paulo.

“Uh,” Alvaro said when neither of them had said a word. “Just getting water.”

So Paulo got them two glasses of water, and the both of them stood silently against the kitchen counter gulping them down.

“Is the bed uncomfortable or something?” Paulo asked to break the silence.

“Huh?” Alvaro said. “Oh. Nah. Just. Not tired.”

“I thought you were being a princess and not being able to sleep on my mattress.”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro laughed, making Paulo do the same. “You? Are you being a princess who can’t sleep on the couch?”

“I’m just not tired.”

“Well, uh. If you wanna, you know,” Alvaro made a vague gesture. “Sleep on your bed. I can move to the couch. Or I don’t mind sharing. But you were acting all weird when I mentioned the sharing thing so, I don’t know.”

“I wasn’t acting weird,” Paulo said, but he smiled into his glass because Alvaro still remembered that conversation even though it’d been a year.

“You totally were,” Alvaro punched him on the shoulder. “Hey. I missed hanging out with you.”

It wasn’t something Paulo expected when he moved to Italy. He still barely saw Alvaro. But at least he could call Alvaro at decent times now that they shared a timezone. And they could actually hang out when they had short breaks without literally flying across an ocean. It’d been hectic right before summer, though, which explained why they hadn’t seen each other so frequently.

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled, this time at Alvaro. “Me, too.”

“You wanna, you know. Do something?”

“At one am?”

Alvaro’s entire face lit up. “Let’s watch a horror movie.”

“No,” Paulo said. “Noooooo. No. The last time –“

“You hid under your blanket for three hours or whatever,” Alvaro interrupted. “I know. Come on. I’m here now. Let’s do it, I’m bored.”

“Okay, okay,” Paulo relented, because it was simply this easy when it came to Alvaro. Plus, he was bored, too. “Come on, loser.”

They went back to Paulo’s room, hooked up his laptop to the TV, and watched Final Destination 5. And along the way Alvaro slid so far down the bed and under the sheets that he might as well have not been watching.

“Coward,” Paulo nudged him as the credits began to roll. Alvaro was still staring wide-eyed at the screen. Paulo snapped his fingers in front of Alvaro’s eyes and Alvaro jumped.

“It’s cold,” Alvaro said lamely.

And it wasn’t, so Paulo was just glaring at Alvaro. But that was when there was suddenly a loud creaking noise that came from the wall separating Paulo’s room from the guestroom; and part of Paulo just _knew_ that it was just Mariano turning in his creaky bed but. He turned and gaped at Alvaro, equally wide-eyed, instead.

“It’s Mariano,” Paulo whispered.

“But what if it’s _not_?” Alvaro whispered back.

In one swift, coordinated motion, the both of them darted under the covers together, because even though it hadn’t been cold just three seconds before, it suddenly _was_.

Alvaro’s breath was warming Paulo’s face as he breathed, “Not cold, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo said. He wriggled around, untangling the sheets so there was enough room for the both of them. “Well. At least the lights are on.”

“That’s not a good thing,” Alvaro argued. “Look at all these _shadows_.”

Paulo paused. “God, I fucking hate you.”

And Alvaro grinned this grin that was a mix of pride and a little fear and it was the most adorable thing ever even though Paulo hated to admit it.

“What if there’s something coming to get us?” Alvaro asked, like that was a completely normal question to ask.

“I’ll ask it to take you first, of course,” Paulo said, deadpan, earning himself a smack on the shoulder. “Okay, stop it! The sheets are gonna fall off and we’ll be exposed. Fuck, I wonder whose idea it was to watch a fucking horror movie in the middle of the fucking night.”

Alvaro glared at him. “At least I’m not afraid to admit I’m scared. I dare you to stick your arm out and turn off the light.”

“No, what the fuck!”

Alvaro burst into loud laughter, laughter that probably would’ve scared whatever monster away. It subsided into little giggles as he rolled over on his stomach, bringing him closer to Paulo. And it took literally every ounce of Paulo’s willpower not to lean over and kiss Alvaro – he almost did, _almost did_ , but instead he just smiled at Alvaro, grateful when Alvaro smiled back that at least he had Alvaro hiding in the sheets together with him this time.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah,” Paulo said softly. He was suddenly tired, too. He lay his cheek on the bed and closed his eyes. “Night, Alvi.”

When he opened his eyes a couple of minutes later he saw Alvaro still gazing over at him, not sleeping. He still looked shaken and part of Paulo found that amusing but a larger part found it so endearing.

He reached over and wrapped his hand around Alvaro’s wrist. “Just sleep. I’m here, okay? I won’t let anything get to you. Promise.”

Alvaro smiled again and shifted his arm so he was holding Paulo’s hand in his instead. “Night,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Paulo closed his eyes, too, the warmth from Alvaro’s hand slowly melting its way up Paulo’s arm and over his whole body. He loved that Alvaro could feel safe around him. Because he’d always feel safe around Alvaro, too, no matter what Alvaro did to dispel that notion, be it intentional or not.

\------

In Alvaro’s life there were only two people he’d ever felt an instant connection with. Two people whom he knew would be his closest friends from the moment he met them when he was just a weird lanky teenager.

One of them was Paulo.

The other was Isco.

When Alvaro returned to Madrid Isco was already there, his new locker the one next to Alvaro’s. The last time Alvaro had seen him had been only briefly when they’d met up for Spain. Well, more briefly than Alvaro would’ve liked.

“Well well well, look who’s here,” he said in a completely needless dramatic voice as Alvaro approached. “We meet again.”

“What, you gonna colonise my locker space?”

“That’s a good idea,” Isco said thoughtfully, but slid over next to Alvaro as he sat down. “Hey. How are you doing?”

“Great, I had a great summer,” Alvaro smiled. “You?”

Alvaro took his time to dress as Isco told him everything about his summer. That was one of the reasons why he took such a liking to Isco in the first place, why he thought that he could actually have a really good friendship with this guy – because they complemented each other so well. Isco could talk for days at a time, which was fine because Alvaro could listen to him for days at a time.

“So what did you do for summer?” he eventually asked Alvaro.

“Well,” Alvaro gave that a thought. He didn’t really remember much of summer. Well, except. “I hung out with a friend.”

“Which friend?” Isco asked. “Paulo?”

Alvaro gave him a sideways glance. He knew Paulo and Alvaro were close – well, almost everybody knew that – and he knew, although he didn’t understand, that Alvaro sometimes liked to talk about Paulo, but sometimes not.

“Yeah. Yeah, Paulo.”

“Wow, you guys still keep in contact? I can’t even remember who my partner was during that camp thingy.”

And that made Alvaro laugh because Alvaro was literally the only one in that batch of youth teams who actually kept in contact with his partner. Everyone else had just simply drifted apart. And that made Alvaro secretly really happy, because man, he’d gotten a _literal gem_ in Paulo and he wanted to keep him forever.

“Hey,” Isco nudged him. “It’s great, you know. That you two lasted so long.”

And he had that wistful look he had every time he looked at Alvaro, but which Alvaro did not understand, so Alvaro only smiled. “I know,” he whispered.

And then because Isco was still looking at him like _that_ and because Alvaro had just come back from a really chill summer with mister-dream-come-true Paulo and was just really confused, he hung on to Isco’s arm and told him about what had happened between him and Paulo.

Well, he left out some of the more mature-rated parts.

He thought after saying it out loud he would finally get a grip on it. On what it all really meant.

He didn’t.

“Dude. You totally have a crush on him,” was literally everything Isco said.

“What,” Alvaro said. It wasn’t even a question anymore. He was just. Just what.

“You like him,” Isco said, punctuating every word with a poke on Alvaro’s shoulder.

“I. Just,” Alvaro sputtered. “God, fuck. This is literally the worst time to be finding this out.”

“ _Finding this out_ ,” Isco said sarcastically with finger quotes. “Alvaro, my boy, you found this out ages ago. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re all like. Straight and stuff.”

“I’m not homophobic if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“No, I know you’re not, just,” Isco sighed. He had that wistful look again, that look that made Alvaro feel so _vulnerable_ in a way that he just wanted to talk to Isco about _everything_. It was a dangerous look. “Look. It’s hard when you like someone so much, I don’t know, like, they make you so weak but you don’t _want_ to be weak so you deny it. But it doesn’t work, okay? It doesn’t. One day it’ll all come back to haunt you, a hundred times worse than if you’d accepted it in the first place. Either way, it eats you from the inside.”

Something about Isco’s tone made Alvaro think that he’d had some personal experience or whatever. But Alvaro didn’t make eye contact with him for the rest of the day because firstly, Isco just kept looking at him like _that_ and if Alvaro wasn’t careful, he’d pour his entire soul to Isco.

And secondly, because he knew Isco was right.


	17. If I Could Turn Back Time, If I Could Make You Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Wherever You Will Go by The Calling.

“What the fuck happened to your arm?” Alvaro asked once the Skype call had connected. Paulo had this white bandage around his forearm that wasn’t there the previous time. “Did you break it or whatever?”

“Yeah, if I broke my arm they’d smack a bandage around it and leave it,” Paulo rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be rude, kid.”

“Remember I told you I wanted a tattoo?”

“Holy shit, you got it?” Alvaro exclaimed. “The two stripes?”

“Yeah, Franco went with me,” Paulo said proudly. “By my birthday it’ll be healed and I can unwrap it.”

So _that_ was why he got it so early; Paulo was so vain though he refused to admit it. He’d been telling Alvaro about wanting to get it for his dad ever since he found out that it was a symbol of mourning.

“I’m sure your dad loves it,” Alvaro said, earning himself a smile. “Hey, why didn’t you get it further up? Like at your bicep.”

“It’ll be covered by my shirt and I want the entire world to know how much I love my dad.”

Alvaro smiled. “I’m sure he’s really proud of you, Pau.”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked. “You really think so? I haven’t even gotten an ounce of my shit together.”

“And you will,” Alvaro said firmly. “You _will_.”

“I will,” Paulo whispered, his gaze drifting to his bandage. “Yeah. I will.”

“Look, it’s not like _I_ have my shit together, either.”

“That’s why we’re best friends.”

Alvaro spent the rest of the day with his chin on his hand, cheeks hurting from smiling as he listened to Paulo go on and on and on about tattoos.

\------

So when Paulo’s birthday came the redness around the tattooed stripes had faded and he paraded around proudly showing them off.

He’d invited some of his teammates to his place for a little get together, and his mom and brothers had flown over to spend time with him, too. He’d told Alvaro all about it.

And so Alvaro went. He wasn’t explicitly invited, because Paulo didn't want to trouble him, but he went, because Paulo was a sappy piece of shit who loved surprises and Alvaro wanted to see him smile. It didn’t even matter that he had to deal with Franco being there, because, well. Even though he and Franco had practically never met, they’d always had this vague hostility between them. Alvaro had the misfortune to experience it when Franco practically _glared_ at him in the background of his Skype calls with Paulo.

He brought Isco along, because firstly Isco was just being a big busybody about it and secondly, he really wanted the both of them to meet again.

Surely enough, when Paulo opened the door to the sight of Alvaro and Isco, the _biggest_ smile appeared on his face, and Alvaro was almost sure his little chubby cheeks were gonna explode, or whatever.

“What are you doing here?” he asked excitedly, but moved in to hug Alvaro tightly, anyway.

Alvaro shrugged. “It’s my best friend’s birthday,” he said, and he heard Isco give a playful huff from next to him. “Oh, shut up, Francisco.”

“Hi,” Paulo said to Isco, with a mixture of confusion and joy on his face, like he had a thousand questions but was too excited to ask them.

“He wanted to tag along,” Alvaro said, at the exact same moment Isco said, “Happy birthday!”

And then Franco appeared behind Paulo and just. Stood there _staring_ at Alvaro and Isco, none of the four of them knowing exactly how to react. Well, until Alvaro finally mustered the courage to say, “Hey, Franco.”

“Hey,” Franco said after a brief hesitation.

Alvaro turned to Paulo, who was seemingly the least awkward out of the four. Which was a surprise, honestly, because Isco usually held that role in a group. Paulo’s tiny smile grew brighter, and he grabbed on to Alvaro’s arm as he did the – frankly, completely redundant – introductions.

Paulo ushered Alvaro and Isco inside as Franco – _thankfully_ , Alvaro thought – went away to do his own business, and he got them seats together with his family. Alvaro struck up a conversation with Paulo’s mom, whom in all honestly he hadn’t seen in _too long_. It wasn’t until Paulo finally came back with some champagne for all of them and sat next to Isco that Alvaro realised he’d been neglecting Isco.

Not that it mattered after that, because Paulo and Isco began chatting up a storm.

Alvaro got himself lost subsequently; lost in eavesdropping on the delightful exchange between Paulo and Isco about their lives. He felt like a proud older brother. Except, well, Isco was older than him. But they were both _so small_ and Alvaro _needed_ to protect them.

When Paulo left to entertain some other guests Alvaro decided to go outside for some air. Unfortunately, the only ‘outside’ Paulo’s apartment could offer was the tiny balcony, so Alvaro grabbed a bottle of beer and headed there.

It was suffocating, honestly, being around Paulo and Isco _and Franco_ all at the same time. But it was suffocating in an incredible way. Alvaro was just. Overwhelmed. Being ambushed by a myriad of feelings wasn’t something very enjoyable.

He took a swig of his beer and sighed. He wondered what nonsense Isco was going to say to him the next time they spoke.

And right then Isco pushed the balcony door open and cursed as he tripped over the threshold and crashed into Alvaro. Alvaro rolled his eyes. “You out to kill me?”

“Nah, love you too much,” Isco said. He settled next to Alvaro, his forearms resting on the rail. “Hey. He looks really happy.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. “Of course. All his friends are here.”

“No, dumbass,” Isco said, his turn to roll his eyes. “To see you.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro averted his gaze to the empty street below them. “Nah.”

Then Isco went silent, and Alvaro felt like he was suffocating again but not because Isco was there. Because _Paulo_ was there, he was at Paulo’s apartment and over all those years he’d mastered the art of keeping his feelings about Paulo hidden but he was beginning to realise he couldn’t do it anymore.

When he looked up again he saw Isco staring at him, just gazing over with that misty-eyed look again. “Why aren’t you two together?” he asked.

Alvaro shrugged. He’d locked it up for so long that he felt like he would cry if he started talking about it. “It’s just. The timing wasn’t right. He was halfway across the world and we were young and we wanted to play football. It was never going to work out.”

“How were you so sure? I mean. If only you could see the way you look at each other.”

“Just,” Alvaro whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. He realised how difficult it was to talk about it, to even _think_ about it. “Just stop. It’s over.”

“But you wish it wasn’t, right?” Isco continued, completely oblivious to the fact that Alvaro was about to punch him in the nose. He shuffled closer to Alvaro and stuck his face in Alvaro’s so Alvaro would look at him. “I can tell, Alvaro. I can tell that every time you look at him, you just want to hold him, and you just want to kiss him, and you’ve been wanting to do that since before you can even fucking _remember_ , and I know it’s fucking tearing you apart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro said between gritted teeth. Isco’s face had gotten closer with every word and Alvaro could feel Isco’s breaths on his face, and he could feel his _own_ breaths on Isco’s face. And Isco had never been anything more than a really good friend. It had always just been chill with him. But on that night, at that exact point in time, it had suddenly escalated into a big ball of tension, of red hot burning tension.

Tension that dissolved with an almost audible pop as Isco closed the distance between them and _kissed Alvaro_.

Alvaro wasn’t expecting it; in fact, he had never expected anything _less_ than he was expecting this. His lips parted in a soft gasp which only prompted Isco to move closer, taking Alvaro’s beer bottle from him and letting it fall to the ground with a loud crash.

And Alvaro was suddenly crippled with fear, with fear and guilt and _anger_ , and he couldn’t explain why but he just knew he shouldn’t have been doing that, not with Isco, not with _any other guy_ because it was all supposed to be saved for Paulo. And he liked kissing, really, kissing was great; but he suddenly felt so fucking _disgusted_ so he pushed Isco away by the shoulders, more violently than he’d intended, and if it’d been a little harder Isco probably would’ve flown over the rail and down into the street.

The both of them stood there silently for a moment, just staring at each other, breathless and panting, Isco looking so bloody turned on and Alvaro just. Just _confused_.

“I gotta go,” Alvaro finally managed to say, though he wasn’t even sure if the words actually made it out of his mouth. He stepped over the shards of glass on the ground and barged back into the apartment. Everything was becoming all dark and hazy and Alvaro just needed to sit down. He just needed to sit down and think about it and he needed to be _alone_ because he was going to fucking _cry_.

He tried to sneak past the living room down to the bathroom, his head hung low and his shaking hands stuffed into his pockets. He was successful for the most part, until he met Paulo, _of all people_ , near the end of the hallway.

“Great party,” he said hastily as Paulo smiled.

“Thanks,” Paulo said, his expression turning worried. “Hey, you okay?”

And Alvaro almost burst into tears right then because Paulo looked so concerned, and Alvaro saw right then the timid and quiet little boy that he’d met four summers ago and he was hit so hard by the fact that Paulo hadn’t changed one bit, that _Alvaro_ himself hadn’t changed one bit. That everything between them hadn’t changed one single tiny bit.

And he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. He wasn’t sure if that was something he could ever change, or if his decision not to be with Paulo all those years ago could never be reversed. He wasn’t sure _why, for fuck’s sake_ , he felt like he had just betrayed Paulo.

“Uh, I just,” Alvaro said, turning his body away from Paulo slightly. “I need the bathroom.”

Paulo opened his mouth but before he could say anything Alvaro pushed past him and into the bathroom. He shut the door, knowing it was finally safe, he was finally safe, and he sat down on the floor and started to cry.

The anguish took over him with some violence, and Alvaro clamped a hand over his mouth to shut himself up. He wanted Paulo, he _wanted_ Paulo and he had always known it but refused to acknowledge it. And he hated that of all people, _Isco_ had to be the one to make him realise. Because Isco. Isco was one of Alvaro's closest friends and it had always been black and white with him. But now, it was fifty fucking shades of grey.

A bout of nausea suddenly overcame Alvaro. He was confused and upset and sick, literally _sick_ , about everything that had just happened in like, the past one hour. He’d just wanted to come over here and give his best friend a surprise. See his best friend smile. See him happy. Because that was all that had ever mattered to Alvaro and that was all that would _ever matter_. 

He crawled over to the toilet and hurled into it, and he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from because he’d barely eaten a bite the entire day, just drank a few glasses of champagne and half of that bottle of beer Isco had so rudely wasted. And he was crying and puking and like, damp with cold sweat, and he had never felt worse in his life. Never would Alvaro have thought that having his feelings all figured out and placed on a plate for him would make him feel so terrible.

Never would Alvaro have thought that kissing another man would make him feel like he cheated on Paulo.

It didn’t make any sense. They were not together and they had never been together. There had no promises made. But somehow, Alvaro felt a sense of guilt that threatened to tear him into shreds.

There were suddenly some muffled voices outside the bathroom door, just soft mumbling, and for some fucking reason Alvaro could make out that they belonged to Isco and Paulo. That made him start hurling again, because fuck, he wasn’t sure if that pulling in his gut was anger or love or guilt or regret.

There was some knocking on the door, and Alvaro hadn’t locked it so all he could do was brace himself over the toilet and wait to see which one of his tiny best friends would step through the door.

It was Isco.

He stood behind Alvaro for a couple of seconds, unsure of what to do or say. Then, a little playfully, “Hey, was it _that_ gross?”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro snapped, his voice raspy. He didn’t bother telling Isco he wasn’t vomiting because the kiss was disgusting. He didn’t have the energy, so Isco could think whatever he fucking wanted to.

Isco shuffled his feet around for a moment before shutting the bathroom door and kneeling next to Alvaro. “Look. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“I just,” Isco ran a hand through his hair. “You know. Have been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Alvaro finally turned and stared at him. “What?”

“Not in that way,” Isco said hastily. “Just. Well. You know me.”

And Alvaro did, because Isco thought of himself as some kind of Casanova with both men and women and never hesitated being unnecessarily touchy with _everyone_ he knew. It was no secret he’d thought about some of their teammates in mildly sexual ways before. Alvaro had listened to him talk about it all the time. He just didn’t expect that one day _he’d_ be the target.

“Look, Alvaro. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I should never have done it.”

“Whatever,” Alvaro said again.

Isco grabbed both of Alvaro’s arms and turned Alvaro to face him. “Look at me and say it. Even if you want to ‘whatever’ me again, just look at me so I know you mean it that it’s whatever.”

And Alvaro took one look at him and literally _burst into tears_ , and he felt so dirty and gross and like such a mess, and he’d never cried in front of anyone before so it was no surprise when a look of complete horror took over Isco’s face.

“Holy fuck,” he said. He let go of Alvaro’s arms and pulled Alvaro towards him in a hug despite Alvaro being all sweaty and sticky and gross. “Shit. What? What did I do? Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“I still want him,” Alvaro whispered into Isco’s shoulder, the words, even just the mere _thought_ of them, robbing him of his breath and his voice and practically all his remaining sanity. “I still like him.”

Isco’s shoulders sagged a little, but like he was giving a knowing sigh and not like he was disappointed. “I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry I kissed you but I’m not sorry I made you realise that.”

“But I can’t,” Alvaro continued. “I can’t want him. I can never want him because I want the very best for him and that means he has to get to chase his dreams. I can’t take that from him. This is why I’m here in the first place, because I could never rob this chance from him. It’s all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, and even though I know he wanted to be with me I also know _him_ and I know he wants this dream more, even though he didn’t think about it at that time.”

“Maybe things have changed since then.”

“Nothing has changed, Isco,” Alvaro whispered. “Nothing. Paulo is still Paulo and he is still chasing after his dad’s dream and I have to let him.”

“What about yourself?”

“I’m chasing my own dream, too. I’m living it. My football dream.”

Isco sighed again, this time resigned. “You do you, Alvarito.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alvaro whispered again.

“No, I’m sorry,” Isco pulled away and stood up, hauling Alvaro along with him. “Come on. Let’s go outside. Paulo went to clean up the glass. I told him you felt sick and you dropped it and ran here.”

Alvaro laughed, because that was just him and Isco, always plotting and covering for each other. He dusted himself off as Isco unlocked the door. “Hey. Thank you.”

Isco smiled. “Nah.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Isco shook his head and led Alvaro out of the bathroom with a gentle palm on his back. They ran into Paulo again in the hallway, holding a dustpan full of glass shards.

“You feeling better?” Paulo asked, and Alvaro felt this tugging in his chest again and this time it felt less like guilt and a little more like overwhelming affection. He turned to Isco, who gripped a tight handful of the back of Alvaro’s shirt, like he was sending a secret ‘dude, you gotta hold it together’ message to Alvaro.

“Yeah,” he managed to say.

“You can stay over if you want,” Paulo continued, but seemed to realise that there wouldn’t be enough space for both Alvaro and Isco. He turned to Isco and said, lamely, “Uh.”

Isco laughed. “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just go back to the hotel.”

Alvaro turned back to Paulo and he was just gazing at Alvaro eagerly with his stupid green eyes and Isco had been right, Alvaro really just wanted to hold Paulo and kiss Paulo. And when he looked at Paulo’s lips the guilt returned, and threatened to consume Alvaro from within.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll stay,” Alvaro finally said.

“Call me when you’re leaving for the airport,” Isco said to Alvaro. And then to Paulo, “Great party by the way, happy birthday again.”

And then before Alvaro knew it Paulo was pushing him in the direction of his bedroom, and Alvaro said, “But I’m sticky and gross,” and all Paulo said in reply was, very affectionately, “Nonsense.”

Alvaro looked over his shoulder and saw that Isco had witnessed that exchange, and was smiling sadly at Alvaro. But Alvaro wasn’t quite sure where the sadness was coming from. As he was always unsure where his own nagging sadness was coming from. Maybe, maybe it all came from the same place, from that place he and Paulo were supposed to be but weren’t.

But he fell asleep once his head hit Paulo’s pillow, in the comfortable and familiar scent of his best friend, and for that night everything was at least okay.

\------

Alvaro woke up with Paulo next to him.

Gazing at him with his beautiful eyes, a sleepy smile crossing his face when he saw that Alvaro had awoken. He rolled over on his back and stretched extravagantly. “Morning, Alvi,” he yawned.

“Hey,” was all Alvaro managed to say.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“No problem,” Paulo said before getting out of bed. “Let’s go for breakfast.”

So Alvaro joined him for breakfast before he was due to get on his flight back to Madrid. He stuck his hands in his pockets and followed Paulo around, a bitterness still lingering in his mouth; not the bitterness of what happened in the bathroom but a bitterness of all the despair and guilt that Alvaro still felt.

“Paulo,” he finally said. They were walking down the last stretch back to Paulo’s place and Paulo was ahead because Alvaro was walking so slowly, and Alvaro had to start jogging to catch up with him. “Hey, um. I gotta talk to you about something.”

He wasn’t sure what had taken over him, or what had made him want to come clean suddenly. But Paulo stopped in front of one of the stoops along his street and sat down, so Alvaro sat next to him, trying to ignore the fact that Paulo’s concerned stare was practically boring a hole right through him.

“What is it?” Paulo asked softly.

“Yesterday,” Alvaro started, his voice wobbly. Paulo reached over and carefully wrapped his hand around Alvaro’s, an act of encouragement which only served to rip Alvaro’s heart right out of his chest. “Yesterday, uh, Isco and I. He, um. He kissed me.”

Paulo’s hand unintentionally tightened around Alvaro’s before he quickly reclaimed it. “Oh,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro said. He felt simultaneously relieved to have told Paulo and so _guilty_ , the guilt accumulating from last night to eat him alive. “Paulo. I’m sorry.”

“No, why are you sorry?”

“I just. Just felt like I had to tell you. That you had to know.”

Paulo smiled at the ground. “It’s your life, Alvi.”

“I just,” Alvaro whispered. “Paulo, I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” Paulo said softly. “Look, it’s…like, whatever, right? I mean. I’ve slept with other guys. And like, I’ve got that thing with Franco. We’ve never...you know. Like, promised each other anything, yeah?”

And Alvaro knew Paulo was right – he _had_ slept with other men. Many of them, even. Multiple times. And as that thought hit Alvaro he felt a dull pain deep down somewhere in his gut. He felt that sort of jealousy that he only had the right to feel if he’d heard of his girlfriend smooching some other guy, or something. He felt like karma was finally out to get him, that the hurt he’d inflicted on Paulo all those years ago when he rejected him was now coming back to haunt him.

He wondered if that same jolt of hurt was the same one Paulo was feeling right then but so adamantly trying to hide. And failing at it, too.

“So,” Paulo cleared his throat when Alvaro didn’t respond. “Uh. You and Isco. You guys a thing?”

“No,” Alvaro said firmly. “We’re not.”

Paulo smiled at the ground again, and this time he looked a little less sad and a little more smug. “Yeah?” he whispered. “Okay.”

“What are we?” Alvaro blurted out. “You and me, Paulo, what are we?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo confessed. “I really have no fucking idea, Alvaro.”

“Me neither.”

“Will we ever know?” Paulo asked. “What the fuck is going on between us?”

Alvaro laughed. “What do you think?”

Paulo sighed. “Thanks for, uh. Telling me.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “Paulo. I have to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

“If we were a thing,” Alvaro started. “You and me. If we were a thing right now...do you think you’ll like it?”

Paulo smiled wryly at the street in front of him. “Of course I would, Alvi. Of course I would.”

Alvaro closed his eyes because he was about to cry again. That was all he’d needed to hear from Paulo but at the same time, all he’d _never_ wanted to hear from Paulo. He closed his eyes and let himself, for one fleeting moment, imagine that he and Paulo were actually a thing.

“But hey,” Paulo continued, softly. Alvaro opened his eyes and Paulo was gazing at him again. “You were right, you know? That our dreams come first. And I don’t ever want to get in the way of that because look at you, Alvi. You’re a massive hit.”

“You are, too,” Alvaro smiled. One thought had always popped up in his mind whenever he thought of the reason he and Paulo had never become an item – Alvaro had thought that he and Paulo would never have survived in the footballing world, but how had Paulo and Franco done it so successfully, and in secret, even?

He didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t like to think of what could have been because it was clear right then that they could never go backwards, back to where they had been in 2010. He pushed the thought, together with the twinge of regret, to the back of his mind.

“Alvaro. No matter what we are I will always be here. You know that.”

“I do,” Alvaro smiled. This was all he needed. Paulo was everything he needed, in any form he could get. “Yeah. I do.”

“One day we’ll figure all this shit out, okay?” Paulo grasped Alvaro’s hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise.”

“I promise, too,” Alvaro turned his hand and intertwined his fingers with Paulo’s, because in that moment that was all he wanted to do and literally _nothing_ else mattered. “We’ll get our lives together, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo grinned, and Alvaro wanted to fucking _hug him_ , so he did. “Alvi, we are going to kick life in its balls,” Paulo said into Alvaro’s shoulder.

Alvaro laughed, and despite everything he felt happy. He felt the joy that Paulo so unfailingly brought everywhere with him, and he felt the peace only Paulo could ever provide him with. Because life might have been a bitch but as long as Paulo was around, Alvaro felt like he could conquer the world.

\------

Paulo did get his life together at the beginning of 2014. Well, part of it.

All that talk about feelings and he finally found a girl who made him happier than he’d ever been. Her name was Isabella and she had the prettiest brown hair and brown eyes that turned green in the light. She had this ability to make Paulo forget everything else every time he was with her. She made being a million miles away from home so much easier for Paulo. She changed Paulo’s entire outlook on life.

Paulo might have never gotten what he’d really wanted – but maybe it was time to let go of that. Maybe it was possible for what Paulo wanted to change over time. Over all the years of that inconclusive road trip he’d been taking with Alvaro, maybe it was possible to say hey, this is my stop, and step out of the car.

Because right then he wanted Isa and all the joy she brought with her, and maybe that was fine.

Besides, Alvaro had met Isa, too, and loved her.

Everything was going so well. Paulo was playing great football and Isa went to his matches and actually understood them, actually asked Paulo questions about them, questions he was more than happy to field. Isa was kind, she was jovial, she was intelligent, and she always made Paulo smile. She was the best companion, the easiest to talk to. Everything was going so well.

Until in the summer of 2014; when, after all the tiresome rumours both Paulo and Alvaro were so used to, but sick of hearing, Alvaro moved to Italy.


	18. I See The Road Begin To Climb, I See Your Stars Begin To Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you for being so patient with me and all the new characters. I'm excited to show you how it all turns out! I really appreciate all your really really nice comments and I look forward to all our discussions all the time, thank you so much. I hope you guys like this and I hope it's not boring you, I promise the exciting parts are coming soon :)
> 
> Also just another thing: [look at these cuties](http://67.media.tumblr.com/2482fc9461f5448bc5315c97d1f116bf/tumblr_odjcytmMsc1ud9x1xo1_500.jpg) :)
> 
> Title is from Ink by Coldplay.

Since Alvaro hadn't been able to have Paulo in Madrid 24/7, Isco had been a good second choice.

So since Paulo wasn't in Madrid to help Alvaro pack, Isco came over instead.

“You excited?” he asked Alvaro while he was folding the clothes Alvaro was dumping at him.

Alvaro shrugged. It was the first time he was going to move out of Madrid, away from his family. Even though it meant he was going to play more, he didn't know what to think of it all.

“Does the fact that Paulo’s gonna be there make it any better?”

Alvaro turned and stared at him. “You trying to get me to say something?”

“Nah, just,” it was Isco’s turn to shrug. “Seems like it’s my job to make you be honest with yourself.”

And Alvaro scoffed, because _who the fuck did Isco think he was_ , but then. Isco was right. He kept Alvaro rooted in a way that effectively neutralized how Paulo could turn his entire life around with just one loving glance.

“Yeah,” Alvaro finally said. “It is. Because after all these years we’re finally in the same country, and in between 2009 and now there's been tons of crap but. But we’re still us and now we can be us in the same fucking country and. Fuck. Isco. You should've heard how happy he was when he found out I’m going to Italy.”

“Yeah?” Isco said, and he was smiling and Alvaro just. Felt so grateful he had such a friend. “He’s gonna help you get settled, yeah? And you'll call me? Yeah?”

“I will,” Alvaro promised. “Yeah. It just. It just makes it so much less scary, you know? The fact that Paulo’s gonna be there.”

Isco smiled. “Doesn’t it?” he whispered.

“I just. I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this day.”

Isco folded Alvaro’s last shirt and gave his luggage a pat. “Isn’t love amazing?”

Alvaro stared at him. He just. Stared. Alvaro had never used that word in his life. But he would be lying if he’d said he’d never once wondered if what he felt for Paulo was actually. Actually _love_.

“Chill, it’s just a word,” Isco said, and Alvaro realised he was just staring – not at Isco now, but into space. “God. You gotta hold it together.”

But Alvaro felt like he couldn’t hold it together. He had no reason, just. He just felt like he physically _couldn’t_. He was so _excited_ to start his new life and he really wanted to _see Paulo_ and he just _couldn’t wait_ to spend all his fucking time with Paulo.

He silently turned to Isco, who reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, buddy.”

God, Alvaro sure hoped he would.

\------

When Alvaro landed at the Turin airport Paulo was there with a white cardboard sign that read ‘Alvaro,’ just like the one Alvaro had made two years prior.

Alvaro burst into laughter when he saw Paulo wiggling the sign. He gave Paulo a gigantic hug and waved at Isa standing next to him. He liked that girl. She made Paulo happy.

“Welcome to Italy,” Paulo said in a lame sports announcer voice.

“Thank you,” Alvaro said in the same tone, because if there was one person he didn’t mind being lame with, it was Paulo. “Look at us. Who would’ve thought we’d ever be living in the same country?”

Paulo beamed. “Yeah!”

“You gonna stop staring at me, or what?” Alvaro said after a brief pause.

“I’m not staring at you, you’re in my view,” Paulo retorted. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Alvaro gladly followed Paulo, because in all the five years he’d known Paulo he had never been so _close_ and he trusted Paulo with his _life_ ; and for Alvaro, that would always be enough.

\------

Paulo stuck to Alvaro like a pest for the first few weeks Alvaro was there, knowing that once the season started they would barely have time. Paulo’s presence seemed to calm Alvaro. He seemed less fidgety in person than he did on Skype. So Paulo tried his best to be there for him.

They were walking down the street after Alvaro viewed his 500th apartment (well, it might not have been, but it certainly seemed that way to Paulo. But he didn’t mind. The apartments were beautiful in Turin) when Alvaro suddenly asked, “Why didn’t you bring Isa along?”

“Um,” Paulo said. He didn’t think Alvaro would ever ask that question. And well. He didn’t know _why_. “Because, like. I don’t know. I didn’t think it would be appropriate.”

“Appropriate?”

“Like,” Paulo gestured to the empty space in front of them. “You. Her.”

“What, I’m not Franco, you know? I won’t glare at her or whatever. You know I like her.”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Yeah, just. Yeah.”

Alvaro seemed to understand. He smiled at Paulo. “Pau. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, then wrapped his arm around Paulo’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I feel like. I’d never have been able to do this on my own. Settling in here and stuff. And like, I’m just so happy that we’re finally together, in the same country.”

Paulo smiled. “I gotta teach you some Italian.”

“Yeah!” Alvaro’s face lit up. “Oh, please do.”

So they went back to Alvaro’s temporary apartment with the crappy soundproofing and creaky wooden floors (okay, so the _rest_ of the apartments in Turin were beautiful. This one was not) and settled in Alvaro’s lousy mattress and Paulo taught Alvaro all the Italian that he knew.

When evening came they shared dinner in that little bed and stayed up the entire night just talking about nothing, and in the end Paulo fell asleep on Alvaro’s feet with a smile, transported back to their nightly sleepovers five years ago.

Except this time it was going to be longer than four weeks.

\------

If Paulo had thought Alvaro was already a sensation before he joined Juventus, he had never been further from wrong.

Alvaro burst into the Serie A scene like a horse out the blocks. He didn’t just cause ripples, he caused waves, and whenever Alvaro played, Paulo watched re-runs of Juve’s matches so proudly you’d almost think he was playing for them. Paulo was just. So _happy_ that Alvaro was finally getting the chances he deserved.

They met almost every single week; Alvaro came to Sicily to hang out with Paulo most of the time. Sometimes Paulo went to Turin with Isa to see Alvaro (and his super nice attic-penthouse thingy that he _finally_ decided on, God), but he stopped doing that after all those ‘Juventus going after Paulo Dybala’ headlines started popping up.

Not that Paulo was thinking of going anywhere right then. Palermo had just gotten promoted on their first try and Paulo was convinced right then that Alvaro had been right. Paulo could do this.

He told himself he had to continue holding that positive attitude for the entire season, but alas, he only managed to make it until their sixth Serie A match, a loss at Empoli. Three points in six matches, and not a single win picked up.

Paulo slid into the bed next to Franco’s, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep. He was exhausted. He should have fallen asleep.

He should have fallen asleep before Franco came over and sat on the edge of his bed.

“You know Isa,” Paulo said without turning around. They hadn’t done it since Paulo had gotten together with Isa and Paulo was not about to start.

There was a long pause on Franco’s end. “I do,” he finally said. “I just. Paulo. Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Are you happy. With where you are right now.”

“I’m not fucking happy, what do you think? At this rate we’re going to get relegated again.”

“No,” Franco grabbed Paulo’s shoulder and turned him around. “With your life.”

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure when he’d _ever_ been happy about his life. If he’d ever be happy with his life. No matter how well it seemed to be going, there was always just this tiny bit of dissatisfaction. Like, he had Isa and he really liked her, and he and Alvaro were in the same freaking country, and he had a great friend like Franco, but. His life just _wasn’t_ going right. _Something_ always had to go wrong.

“I could say I’m grateful to be where I am,” Paulo finally replied.

“You sure?” Franco asked.

“Look, trying to have an emotional talk with me isn’t going to get me to blow you or whatever, you know.”

Franco burst into laughter. “Fuck you, Dybala, I wasn’t even going for that.”

“Then what are you going for?”

“You’re my friend and I care about you.”

“Here comes the emotional talk again.”

“Fucking hell, Paulo,” Franco said, pushing Paulo back into his original position, on his side. “Why do you always have to close yourself off like this? Why don’t you ever let anyone care about you? It won’t hurt, you know. To have someone care. It won’t hurt to talk to somebody about it.”

It was just like Franco to be able to knock some sense into Paulo with just a few harsh words. Even when Franco wasn’t going to get anything out of it anymore.

When Paulo didn’t reply Franco got up and went back to his own bed, slipping silently under the covers. Paulo couldn’t tell if he was mad. But he’d got Paulo thinking. Paulo had never had the habit of ranting to anybody. He’d never felt the need to say something about what he was feeling. After all, he had to handle it _himself_. He’d always felt like nobody would ever be able to help him.

He’d never felt the need to say anything because even though he never did, Alvaro understood him.

Paulo got up and went over to Franco’s bed, sitting on top of the covers next to Franco, who had his eyes closed in defiance.

“My life hasn’t been okay since my dad passed away when I was fifteen,” Paulo said. He’d never actually said those words out loud and the reality of them hit him harder than he thought it would. “I feel like I’ve been screwing my life up every step of the way. I don’t feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. I mean, it’s not Palermo, just. Not where I’m supposed to be as a whole. I want to make my dad proud. I _need_ to make my dad proud. But I feel like. I’m not anywhere close to it. I’m not anywhere near the footballer, or the _person_ that dad would have wanted me to be. Look at me, Franco. Just. Look at me. I’m a failure.”

Franco opened his eyes. “Are you just saying this because we’ve lost so many matches? Because Paulo. You know that isn’t an accurate indication of how good we can be. Of how good _you_ can be.”

“I know, just. Just the whole thing put together. I can’t remember the last time everything felt right.”

“And you wish your dad was here to tell you that you’re in the right place.”

“Yeah.”

“Paulo,” Franco sat up. “You know how to do this. You’ve been so mature and so responsible since you were fifteen. Not many people can come this far by themselves, with their biggest role model gone. Not many people can make it as far as you have. And honestly, even if this sounds a little harsh – whether you’re in the right place doesn’t depend on what your father thinks. It depends on what _you_ think. Because you’re doing all the thinking for your father right now. It was your decision to go through with his dream of having a footballer son. And it’s your decision now whether you’ve made it as far as he would have liked. Because you will _never_ know what he’s thinking anymore, Paulo. Everything you come up with is just a figment of your own imagination. He’s your father, Paulo. No matter what you do, he will always be, and no matter where you are in life, as long as you are trying, he will always be proud.”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. He shut his eyes and thought again about where he was in his life. He was in _Europe._ He was already three quarters of the way to his ultimate dream – to make it big in Europe. All that was left was making it big. “Yeah. Thanks, Franco.”

“You’ve just been looking miserable these days and I care, okay? I care about you, Paulo. Even though like, I’m not getting any. I care about you.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said again. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for talking to me. Even though I did most of the fucking talking.”

Paulo gave him a playful nudge, and Franco wrapped his arms around Paulo in a tight hug, and in that one moment, with Paulo _drowning_ once again in someone larger than him, suffocating in the feeling of being protected, everything was okay.

He got back into bed and lay down. In this entire world, Paulo only knew of one person who could instantly tell what he needed without him even having to say a word. In a way that even Isabella wasn’t able to do; not because she was in any way inferior, but only because Paulo had known her for a much shorter time.

Paulo grabbed his phone and dialled the now-familiar number without even checking twice. It was almost midnight but he was sure this was the only person in the whole wide world who would take his call no matter what.

When the ringing stopped, all he had to say was, “Alvi.”

And Alvaro spent the rest of the night telling Paulo stories and jokes and _horrible_ puns until Paulo fell asleep with a big smile on his face, finally at peace.

\------

Paulo travelled to Turin in October to play against Juventus. The first time in his life, _ever_ , that he was going to play against Alvaro’s team in an official competitive match.

They hadn’t spoken in a week because neither of them wanted it to affect their performance when the match came. All Paulo had said to Alvaro was a simple ‘happy birthday.’ He missed Alvaro. He missed knowing what was going on in Alvaro’s life.

Alvaro didn’t play a single minute of the match, but Paulo played the entire thing. Palermo lost 2-0.

After the match Paulo had no idea whether it was appropriate to go snooping around and talking to Alvaro, so he just hopped on the team bus, let himself get squashed against the window by Franco, and sat broodingly all the way to the hotel. Further brooding happened in the room as he and Franco sat silently, not doing anything, just thinking where this was all going to lead.

Near midnight there was a knock at the door, and Paulo’s bed was nearer to it so just a simple death glare from Franco was enough to make him get up and open it.

Alvaro stood on the other side, his face turned towards the ground but his gaze lifting to meet Paulo’s and his eyebrows doing that adorable slanting thing.

Neither of them said a thing, just stood there with three inches of space between them staring at each other. Wondering how to pick up from where they left off. Wondering _where_ they had left off. Because one week without Alvaro felt like ten years.

The corners of Alvaro’s lips lifted minutely in an encouraging smile. His gaze softened, but his eyebrows remained in that affectionate slanting position, the wrinkles in his forehead not going away. His gaze travelled Paulo’s entire face before landing on Paulo’s eyes again.

And Paulo fucking _dove_ straight into Alvaro’s arms, almost knocking Alvaro over by crashing into him and burying his face in Alvaro’s chest. Alvaro hesitated for a mere second before his arms were around Paulo, gently stroking Paulo’s back. His chin softly nuzzled the top of Paulo’s head as he whispered, “Hey, you.”

“Alvi,” was all Paulo could muster, a breathless whisper. He felt so safe, so _at home_ , right there in the doorway of a hotel room, the most not-at-home place one could ever be in. He felt so at home standing in Alvaro’s arms.

“You did so great,” Alvaro mumbled. His lips gently brushed the side of Paulo’s head. “So great.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. He really didn’t want to, but he was fucking _crying_ and he was sure Alvaro could feel it seeping through the front of his shirt.

“Of course,” Alvaro said. He pulled away from the hug and used both his thumbs to wipe Paulo’s cheeks. He gave Paulo another, bigger encouraging smile, and Paulo’s heart did a lame triple flip.

“I missed you,” Paulo mouthed, because he didn’t want Franco to overhear.

Alvaro’s smile grew. “Me, too,” he mouthed back, before his gaze suddenly moved over Paulo’s head.

Paulo turned and saw that Franco had turned around in bed to see what was going on, and he saw Alvaro give Franco a hesitant wave, like he wasn’t entirely sure if Franco was like, _okay_ with him. A moment of awkward silence passed as Franco and Alvaro stared at each other from across the room, a mutual ‘ _if you hurt Paulo I am going to fucking kill you_ ’ stare. But much to Paulo’s relief, Franco eventually waved back, and gestured towards Paulo’s empty bed like he was saying they could stay there if they wanted.

But Paulo didn’t want Franco to hear everything he had to say to Alvaro and then afterwards hyper-analyse every word to him, so he grabbed his jacket, took Alvaro’s hand, and led him out of the room. The both of them spent the next couple of hours just walking along the chilly Turin streets and talking about nothing.

“You tired?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shook his head. “You, uh. Thanks for coming all the way over here.”

Alvaro gave Paulo a nudge. “Missed my best friend,” he said in hesitant but sincere Italian.

“Me, too,” Paulo smiled. He liked it when Alvaro spoke to him in Italian, because _he_ was the one who’d been teaching Alvaro Italian and he was very proud of that fact. “Your Italian’s improving.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro grinned proudly. “Thanks to you.”

Paulo chuckled at the ground as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't exactly know what to say. Not with Alvaro looking at him like that. Not when he was upset about having lost to Alvaro’s team and Alvaro had no fault at all but he had to watch Paulo being all moody.

“Hey,” Alvaro nudged him again. “You’re doing great, yeah? You are. Even if you don’t see it yourself. I believe in you, Paulo, I have since the very first day.”

“I believe in you too, Alvaro.”

“You are going to kick the world in its ass.”

“We’ll kick the world in its ass together.”

Alvaro laughed, and grabbed a handful of Paulo’s hair so he could pull Paulo’s head to his lips. And it was just that easy, really, to convince Paulo that things were going to be okay. After all, once he’d hit rock bottom, the only way was up.

\------

The rest of Paulo’s year went incredibly. Palermo didn’t lose a game until the end of the year and Paulo was. Well, put quite simply, he was _overjoyed_. After both their weekend games had been played Paulo would call Alvaro and they would talk for _hours_ about everything, about football and life, and Alvaro would say smugly, “Told you things would get better.”

Isa had gotten in on all the festivities, too. Paulo really enjoyed being in her company. She had the loudest, heartiest laugh which somehow managed to make Paulo laugh along with her without fail, no matter what she was laughing at. Once Alvaro stubbed his toe while they were Skyping and she spent the next hour laughing so Paulo spent it trying to keep a straight face to Alvaro. And she never judged Paulo for being such a huge fan of Legos – when Paulo went crazy and bought like, three 800-piece sets, she sat next to him and helped him put all of them together.

Anyone who knew Paulo knew that he was afraid of commitment. But no one, except maybe Alvaro, knew why.

He was afraid of commitment because he felt that his bisexuality would chase people away.

But his relationship with Isa had gotten to a stage where Paulo felt more comfortable telling her than keeping it from her. So that was exactly what he did one day – he sat Isa down with a glass of her favourite strawberry smoothie that might have been Paulo’s idea of a peace offering in case he screwed up anything. He sat across the kitchen table from a very sceptical-looking Isabella, and took both of her hands in his.

“So,” he began shakily, clearing his throat. “You, uh, might have known that you’re my…first girlfriend in a really, really long time.”

“Yeah?” Isa smiled encouragingly. “Yeah. I do.”

“I just, uh,” Paulo paused. “You know. I think that you should know why.”

“Why?” Isa asked, concerned, her brow furrowing slightly. She gave Paulo’s hands a squeeze.

“It just,” Paulo sighed, and then decided to let it all out in one go. “It’s never been so straightforward to me. The thing with girls. Not that girls aren’t straightforward, I mean. It’s just. How I feel towards girls. It’s never been so straightforward. And I guess what I’m trying to say is. I’m bi, Isa. I swing both ways.”

Isa’s eyes widened briefly, and then narrowed back to their original size. After a few seconds they crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “Okay,” she whispered, squeezing Paulo’s hands again.

“You’re not, uh,” Paulo let go of one of her hands and waved his hand around vaguely. “Mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Isa chuckled. “It’s nothing to be mad about.”

Paulo shrugged. “I’ve never really…done this before. Coming out.”

“Who have you told?”

“Just a couple of close friends,” Paulo said. “Uh. Alvaro and Franco. And my brothers.”

Isa smiled, and _God_ , Paulo _loved her_. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

So Paulo did. He told her about his fear of commitment. He told her about how he’d slept with more men than he could count. While assuring her that he was clean, of course. He told her about how he struggled with the thought of being bisexual for _months_. Or maybe even years.

At the end of the day the lovely smile on Isa’s face hadn’t faded one bit, and Paulo leaned over the table and pressed his lips against hers. And for the very first time in his life, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Isa whispered.

And right then Paulo knew Alvaro had been right. Someone who truly cared about Paulo wouldn’t give a fuck about whether he was bi. Alvaro didn’t give a fuck. Franco didn’t give a fuck. Gustavo and Mariano didn't give a fuck. And Isa didn’t give a fuck.

That night before Paulo slept, he went to the window and looked at the patch of sky he could see from his apartment window. And he whispered softly to himself, “Dad, I am exactly where I want to be and I hope you are proud.”

\------

Alvaro swore he had never heard Paulo sound as happy as he did when he told Alvaro what had happened between him and Isa. All Paulo had ever wanted in his life was to be accepted. And now he had gotten acceptance and Alvaro was so, so proud.

When the winter break started Alvaro met a girl.

She was tall and beautiful and so, so kind, and she reminded Alvaro of Sofia, the first girlfriend he’d ever had. The first girl he’d ever wanted to give the world to.

And for the first time since Sofia, Alvaro realised that he'd found a girl he _would_ give the world to.

Her name was Mia, and Alvaro first saw her sitting at the restaurant bar looking pretty. And once he’d set his eyes on her, the rest was history.

She was different from all the other girls who had come before her. She was different from Sofia, from Cassandra, and from the uncountable number of other girls Alvaro had dated and then dumped. She complemented Alvaro in every possible way – she was the rationality to his pettiness, the practicality to his recklessness, and the brains to his brawn. She had the softest laughter that brought joy to every little scenario, and the most beautiful bright blue eyes that turned green when light struck them.

And for the first time in his life, Alvaro felt the need to keep this girl. To settle.

Because if he could never have Paulo, Mia was the best he was ever going to get.


	19. We Ain't Ever Getting Older

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Closer by The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey.

By the time the New Year rolled around, Paulo had found himself a house nearer the coastline of Palermo, a big bungalow with two storeys and four bedrooms that could accommodate his family _and_ Alvaro if they wanted to stay over.

So that was exactly what Alvaro did – he and Mia flew to Palermo and spent New Year’s Eve at Paulo’s, a double date with him and Isa. They spent the day just lazing around the house and eating sushi and watching Paulo fawn over his new Lego set, what a nerd. Everyone seemed to get along, which was Paulo’s intention of the New Year’s Eve party all along, so it was great.

After the countdown ended and everyone had kissed each other happy new year, they all settled in the lounge to binge watch Gossip Girl. Alvaro was the first to find it boring as fuck. So he was the first who got up, kissed his girlfriend good night, and left the room.

Paulo followed soon after, catching Alvaro in the kitchen downing the last bit of wine straight from the bottle. He stretched his arm out and Alvaro handed him the bottle, although there were only a few drops left in it.

“Happy new year, Alvi,” Paulo said.

Alvaro smiled. “Happy new year, Pau,” he said. His gaze shifted to the lounge, which they could see a little of from the kitchen. Mia and Isa were huddled up comfortably under a blanket, completely oblivious to the fact that their boyfriends had escaped. “This is nice, huh?”

“Yeah,” Paulo shifted next to Alvaro to lean on the counter. “I’m so happy.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro turned and examined Paulo from head to toe. When he was finally convinced, he smiled. “Me, too.”

“Who would’ve thought?” Paulo whispered, smiling at the sight of Mia and Isa; and although he never continued, Alvaro seemed to understand.

“Certainly not me,” he whispered back. He placed his hand on top of Paulo’s and squeezed it gently. “You doing good, yeah?”

And because Alvaro had been keeping up with every single aspect of Paulo’s life (he literally even knew how Paulo had broken a nail by stepping on a Lego _and_ walking into a table at the same time just a few days ago), Paulo knew he meant much more than just that.

Paulo knew he was asking if _they_ were okay. If the drama had finally, once and for all, ended. If Paulo had stopped struggling.

But just looking at Alvaro made Paulo’s heart flutter again. He couldn’t help it. It was some sort of cultivated reflex action. So he just smiled at Alvaro in reply, and he reached into his pocket, took out his shiny new spare key, and handed it to Alvaro.

“For you. Anytime at all.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled, and he looked so happy and touched Paulo just couldn’t help but smile at him again. “Thank you.”

He let Alvaro lead the way upstairs and straight into Paulo’s room. He watched Alvaro flop over on his bed, and he found himself burrowing his way in, finding a little notch against Alvaro’s side where Paulo always seemed to fit so well.

“We should holiday together this summer,” Alvaro mused, tucking his arm under his head.

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled at the idea. “With Isa and Mia? I mean. If we’re all, like. Still together.”

Alvaro turned his head and eyed Paulo over his arm. “Yeah. I think. Yeah.”

“You really like her,” Paulo said, more of a statement than a question. He just had to _know_ , because after all these years Alvaro was still _his_ and Paulo felt like every girl who came Alvaro’s way had to be secretly personally approved by Paulo. He had to make sure they made Alvaro happy because Paulo couldn’t be there to do it.

“Yeah,” Alvaro lay back on his arm again. “I feel…like this is where I’m supposed to be. Everything is perfect right now. Mia is great, you’re right here just two hours away from me, and. And I’m happy.”

He was happy. As long as Alvaro was happy, as long as Paulo _knew_ Alvaro was happy, everything would instantly be okay.

“So,” Paulo said. “You think she’s the one?”

“Fuck you, I’m only twenty-two,” Alvaro elbowed Paulo in response, causing the both of them to laugh. “But well. She’s pretty close.”

Paulo turned and propped himself up on his elbow, a sly grin slowly appearing on his face. “Alvi and Mia sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s –“

“Jesus Christ, how old are you?!” Alvaro exclaimed, nudging Paulo’s arm so he fell back on the bed in a fit of giggles. He was blushing a little and he looked completely _smitten_ with this amazing girl (Paulo knew how amazing she was because Alvaro couldn’t stop talking about her) and it was endearing as fuck. “Fuck. Paulo. I’m just. I’m so happy.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled at the ceiling. “Me, too.”

“I never thought I’d ever be this happy.”

“Me neither.”

“You know what’s the best thing ever?” Alvaro said, and rolled over on his tummy so he was all squished up against Paulo.

“What?” Paulo asked. He instinctively placed one of his hands in Alvaro’s hair, still growing out from when he shaved it, before realising its inappropriateness. He put it back on his stomach.

“That you’re here,” Alvaro whispered. His eyes were dark in the dim light and he was using them to peer eagerly at Paulo, who was himself so entranced he was unable to look away. “That after all these years, you’re still here, and now you’re _here_ here, in Italy, and I can see you whenever I want and it just. It makes me feel so. I don’t know. Like, peaceful, like I don’t wanna touch anything right now in case I ruin anything. In case I ruin this perfect balance. That’s the best thing. That you’re _right here_.”

Paulo smiled, but he could feel his bottom lip wobbling. In fact, when he thought about it, he could feel various parts of his body wobbling. His hands, for one, were a dead giveaway, so he used them to shove Alvaro out of the way so hard Alvaro fell on the ground with a thud and loud laughter.

“Fuck off, cheesy piece of shit,” he called after Alvaro.

“ _You_ fuck off, heartless baby,” Alvaro called back, before getting up and crawling right back next to Paulo, lodging himself in that space again, where he fit with Paulo like two pieces of a puzzle.

After a short silence, Paulo said, “Yeah, I think that’s the best thing ever, too.”

Alvaro turned and gave Paulo a smile that was half smug and half adoring and Paulo almost pushed him off the bed again. Then Paulo pressed his cheek against Alvaro’s shoulder, grasping on to his bicep. He didn’t care what boundaries he was crossing. Because for once, there didn’t seem to be any.

“Look at us,” Alvaro chuckled, and Paulo felt it against his cheek. “We’re back where we started. Squished on one bed even though there’s miles of space. Talking about nothing. Just. Spending time together.”

“What’s gotten into you today?” Paulo wondered out loud. “It’s the fucking _New Year_ , Alvi. Look _forward_.”

“I am. This entire thing just makes me nostalgic. And I just wonder, like, how many more of these moments we’re going to have.”

Paulo smiled. He didn’t need to say anything else. He was glad that Alvaro saw him in his future. Because Paulo never wanted to imagine a ‘forward’ without Alvaro in it.

They continued talking about nothing as their girlfriends Gossip Girl-ed their way into 2015, until they fell asleep one after another, Alvaro in mid-sentence, like they were teenagers once again.

\------

In February Franco had this gigantic party for his birthday and Paulo went. It wasn’t as if Franco wasn’t an overgrown twenty-six year old baby, anyway.

It was a great party, just like how _any_ party Franco was at would be. He was the life of every conversation and he had like, a thousand friends, and after a while Paulo got exhausted trying to keep up with all the chatter so he just sat on the – surprisingly, given how there were so many groups of people gathered around it – empty couch with a full glass of scotch and a smaller one of vodka.

He ended up being so bored and drunk that he called Alvaro.

“Hey,” Alvaro answered with a laugh. “How’s the party?”

“It was fun at first, but I’m tired,” Paulo confessed.

“Is it a good party?” Alvaro asked.

“Pretty awesome.”

“Just like every other party you’ve had a part in planning?”

“You know it, Alvi,” Paulo smiled. “Hey. Wish you were here.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro sighed. Isa had gone to France for work and Paulo had asked Alvaro along as a plus one for this party, but. “But, like. Franco hates me.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“He does,” Alvaro said. “He hates me for, like. Fucking up your life and everything.”

“You didn’t fuck up my life,” Paulo said softly. He couldn’t even hear himself over all the party noise. But Alvaro heard him, loud and clear.

“I did, too,” he said.

Paulo took a big gulp of his glass of scotch. “I fucked up my own life.”

“You didn’t,” Alvaro said tenderly. And then there was this extremely long period of silence, and Paulo imagined Alvaro just sitting there listening to all the random conversations that were going on in Paulo’s background. And then he said, “Paulo. Help me wish him a happy birthday, will you?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. Alvaro was his best friend in the entire world and Franco was, well. Franco was just more than a friend. And all he wished for was that the both of them got along. They had never spoken much, Alvaro and Franco, but they had glared at each other more than once and Paulo was so not up for that. “I will.”

Just then, Franco emerged from the crowd and flopped over on the couch next to Paulo, looking and _smelling_ as drunk as Paulo thought he would be.

“Hold on,” Paulo said over the phone. He passed the phone to Franco. “Hey. Alvaro wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Franco slurred. He gave a huge pout and Paulo wanted to slap him. But he took the phone, saving himself. “Hello?”

And then Franco fucking _burst into a huge grin,_ and Paulo felt his heart fall to the ground in relief because everything was okay. The two people who meant the world to him. They were okay.

“Fuck you,” Franco laughed, and he glanced over at Paulo, his gaze faltering gently when he met Paulo’s eyes. “You know I would never. I know you would never, too.”

And then, “I don’t hate you, Morata. I swear.”

And then, “Yeah, I will. Thank you. Bye.”

Franco dumped Paulo’s phone back at Paulo, and then supported himself with one hand on the sofa back and one hand on the seat as he crawled over Paulo and just. Stayed there, hovering over him. The biggest grin appeared on his face again, a mixture of cheekiness and adoration, and he moved to kiss Paulo, first one time on each cheek, and then on Paulo’s forehead.

“Told me to take good care of you. He fucking loves you, Dybala,” he said, and okay, maybe he _wasn’t_ as drunk as he smelled. “Have fun. Love you.”

Then he left Paulo half-lying there on the couch, a little drunk and dizzy and reeling from the kisses and words alike.

\------

Paulo spent the rest of the party alternating between talking to random people he didn’t even know, drinking tons of beer, and dancing with hot guys and girls alike. Isa wouldn’t mind. After all, it was just dancing. And _wow,_ if only he’d had a video of Franco.

At the end of the day everybody was drunk as fuck and Paulo had to make sure no one tried to drive home, so he called Ubers for everybody and shoved the people who lived closer together in the same Uber. After all the hauling and pushing he was exhausted, and tumbled on the couch in a heap with Franco and a random girl. Who apparently stayed close to Paulo.

“Wow, this place is a dump,” Paulo remarked.

“Shut the fuck up,” Franco said. And then seemed to agree, because he said, “Dybala. Can I crash at your place? I’ll walk you two home.”

Paulo’s mom was back in Argentina, so Paulo agreed with a sigh, and the three of them got up and stumbled their way along the Sicilian streets until they hit Paulo’s house. Actually, they weren’t even sure it was Paulo’s house until Paulo’s fumbling hands managed to open the front gate.

And then they remembered they hadn’t sent the girl back home and _God_ , they were such a mess. Franco slid down on the cold ground, leaning against Paulo’s gate, and burst into tired laughter. “God, we’re hopeless.”

“Aren’t we?” Paulo laughed, sliding down next to him and shutting his eyes. The girl – her name was Anna? – sat on the other side of Franco.

“Paulo,” Franco purred, clinging on to Paulo’s arm and leaning his cheek on Paulo’s shoulder. “You are my _best friend_ in this _entire world_.”

“Yeah?” Paulo giggled.

“Sometimes I just wanna,” Franco continued. “Wanna. Like. Kiss you. I want to kiss you all over because what we had. Paulo. What we had, I miss it so fucking much.”

Paulo opened his eyes and turned to Franco, who was so drunk he was almost conked out. And Paulo guessed maybe he did feel that way, too. Maybe all the alcohol had completely fucked him up but Paulo knew for a fact he was the most honest with himself when he was drunk. So maybe he did miss it. Maybe the love he shared with Isa was really meaningful but maybe it just wasn’t enough and he’d never realised it because he was never made to think about it. Because what had _ever_ been enough for Paulo? What had ever been enough for him in this quest where he tried and tried, and _failed and failed,_ to find himself?

“Yeah?” he whispered.

Franco lifted his head and looked, like, _right_ into Paulo’s eyes and Paulo thought he was going to faint there on the sidewalk. “Yeah.”

And Paulo must have been out of his _fucking mind_ because he closed the gap between their faces and kissed Franco on the lips, hot and breathy and wet and reeking of alcohol. He _kissed Franco_ and suddenly all the thrill came rushing back to him, all those sweaty nights in hotel beds, trying not to make a sound, waking up the next morning sore but so energized.

Imagining that he was doing it with Alvaro.

It all came back, and Jesus Christ, Franco was of no fucking help. Paulo was fucking _making out_ with Franco on the sidewalk and shit, if he had his way, he’d let Franco do it to him right there. He let his hands wander into Franco’s hair, tugging and grasping, mirroring the way Franco’s hand was so thoroughly searching Paulo’s hair until it surrounded the nape of Paulo’s neck.

“Fuck, come on now, you two,” Anna said, sounding half-frustrated and half-turned on.

That was when they both realised she was still there. They broke apart and turned to her, just. Just staring at her, because they were too hazed by alcohol to actually even think of what they were supposed to do.

Then Franco said, completely casually, “Wanna join?”

She did.

They somehow managed to stumble into Paulo’s house and up the stairs into one of the bedrooms. Paulo was pretty sure his lips were locked to either Franco’s or Anna’s the entire way. He couldn’t say he didn’t want it – but he couldn’t say he totally wanted it, either. Isa lingered somewhere at the back of his mind. But the alcohol and the fact that there were two super-hot people making out in front of him were enough to rid him of any doubt of how much he _needed_ this.

So he put all of himself into it; he fumbled and kissed and fucked, and he let himself be fumbled with and kissed and fucked, and at some point he wasn’t even sure if it was Anna or Franco he was doing it to. Or was doing it to him.

But he swore, he’d never had a night as good as that one.

\------

The next morning Paulo awoke sore as fuck and eyes glued shut with sleep. He was well aware of two extra weights on the bed on his right but after several attempts, gave up on trying to opening his eyes fully enough to take a look at them.

He heard a phone vibrate, and then a loud groan from Franco. Then the vibration stopped and Franco said, “Hello?”

And then, “Oh. This isn’t my phone.”

So he passed it to the next person in line, who was Anna. She repeated the ritual.

And then the phone came to Paulo.

“Hello?” he squeaked.

“Paulo,” the voice on the other end said.

Paulo’s eyes shot open completely.

It was Isabella.

“Paulo,” she said again when Paulo hadn’t said a word. “Who are you with?”

“Uh,” Paulo said lamely. “A couple of friends.”

“Who?”

“Just. From Franco’s party.”

“Why do you all sound so fucked up?” she asked, and her voice was trembling like she expected the worst. “And why wasn’t your phone with you?”

“Isa,” Paulo whispered. “Isa. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

“I’m hungover and fucked up, just,” Paulo sighed. “Isa. Please.”

“You did something wrong, didn’t you?”

Paulo closed his eyes again. He was a fucking terrible liar and he could never do this, not to anybody and not to Isa especially. Because, fuck, he _loved Isa_ and all of that love just suddenly came crashing into him on that morning, like a freight train carrying all of Paulo’s past mistakes.

“Isa. I’ll call you later.”

Then he hung up the phone and got out of bed. Fuelled by a strange mixture of rage, fear, guilt, _horror_ , and regret, he yanked the sheets off Franco and Anna, and said through gritted teeth, “Get out.”

They both groaned in unison.

“Franco Damian Vazquez,” Paulo said, and his voice was strong and loud and it scared Franco into turning to look at him. “That was Isabella.”

Franco’s eyes widened as if he had, right in that very instant, just remembered that Isa existed. “Holy fuck,” he whispered.

“Will you just get up now?” Paulo said, and his voice was trembling and fuck, he needed it not to tremble right then. “Just. Just get the fuck up.”

He stood and watched as the both of them put their clothes on agonisingly slowly. Anna still looked half-asleep, but she dragged on her dress and her shoes and gave Paulo this confused but timid glance before she walked out the room – and fuck, Paulo didn’t even _know her_. He had massively fucked up.

Franco stopped in front of where Paulo was standing, near the bedroom door. “Paulo,” he said. “I –“

“Just get out,” Paulo muttered under his breath. His fists were clenched so tight his nails were digging into his palms and _it hurt_ but not as much as this entire thing did. “Get the fuck out of my house, Franco!”

“Jesus, okay,” Franco whispered, and he looked as scared and confused as Paulo was feeling.

Paulo stood where he was until he heard the front door open, and then shut behind Franco and Anna. And then, as if the click of the door had triggered some kind of massive release, Paulo’s entire world crashed down around him.

He stumbled back into bed and lay there face down for a few seconds before realising that it smelled like all the sex he’d had last night. So he grabbed his boxers and phone and shifted to the bathroom, tripping over his own feet and blinded by his own tears, and leaned over the toilet, the entire night coming back to him frame by frame.

Paulo couldn’t explain what had gotten into him if he’d tried. He couldn’t explain what made him act on such impulse. What made him just. Just _want_ to do something like that. Paulo’s entire life had never been black and white but this. This was as black and white as it would ever be and he was _never_ supposed to do this, never supposed to betray Isa, never even supposed to _think_ about it.

After he finished emptying his guts into the toilet, Paulo ended up slumped over the edge of the tub, his world still falling apart, so slowly it was as if he was being mocked. As if it wasn’t enough that he was hurting, he didn’t even know when this hurt was going to _end_.

He finally managed to call Isa again, with sticky hands and a nose so blocked it put goalkeepers to shame. With tears still steadily rolling down his cheeks because his world was still crumbling like never-ending salt pillars, the world he had so tediously built up for himself, the world he was so confident was finally the right fit for him after he’d searched for so long.

“Paulo,” Isabella said when Paulo hadn’t said a word, just sat there with his hands trembling now that they had no concept of life to grasp on to.

“Isa,” Paulo whispered. “Isa. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I did something. Something horrible and. And Isa. I’m so sorry.”

There was a long pause, then, “What did you do?” in a voice shaking harder than Paulo’s hands.

“I was,” Paulo gulped, but failed to hide the fact that he was practically howling his lungs out. He scrambled his way over to the toilet again because the thought of it, just the mere _thought_ of it, made him want to hurl. The thought that this. This was who he was now. A cheater. “I was drunk, and. And there was this girl, and, and Franco –“

“Okay,” Isa interrupted. “Okay, just. I don’t want to hear anything else.”

“Isabella,” Paulo sobbed. “Please. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. I just. I don’t know.”

“We’ve talked about this before,” Isa said softly, and fuck. They had. They _had_ talked about it and Isa had told Paulo that there was nothing they couldn’t sort out except if he cheated. Because cheating was the deal-breaker for Isa, no matter the reasons, the circumstances, or the apology. Isa had been open-minded enough to look past everything but Paulo just _had_ to go and do the one thing she couldn’t ever forgive him for.

“I know,” Paulo said. “I know, Isa, please. Please, just. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

“No,” Isa whispered, and Paulo thought maybe she was crying. And that thought made him want to vomit again. “Paulo. It’s just. It’s done. Don’t beg me. I don’t want you to beg me.”

“I’m so sorry, Isa, please.”

There was this silence that seemed to last for eternity before Isa finally said, “I’ll get someone to get my stuff from your place.”

Paulo clapped a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t take this any longer. His chest felt like it was going to implode with the sudden emptiness. His mind was running a marathon and fuck, he was still _fucking naked_. His vision had almost gone completely red, as if he was bleeding out through his eyes.

Isa hung up before Paulo could manage to muster the softest whisper of her name.

And Paulo just lay there on the hard floor, the coolness of the tile doing nothing to soothe his suddenly scorching skin. He lay there in the ruins of his own life, the mess that he’d made for himself. He lay there knowing that if this was the outcome of the long process he’d gone through just to save himself, then no one would ever be able to help him.


	20. It's Our Paradise And It's Our War Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I'm trying my best to write whenever I am free but uni is catching up with me. I will try to post regularly but it may be less than now, maybe once a week. Thanks for understanding! Also, if you'd like to talk or discuss anything without handing spoilers to everybody, you can also contact me on tumblr @ incredybala.tumblr.com. Thank you and enjoy :)
> 
> Title is from Pillowtalk by Zayn Malik.

On Alvaro’s day off he watched Palermo play against Lazio. He watched Paulo score and was immensely proud even though Palermo had lost eventually.

He heard the commentator mention how it was Franco’s birthday but he didn’t get the result was probably hoping for. He saw Franco and Paulo walk down the tunnel separately after the game, not looking at each other at all, standing as far away from each other as possible. He saw the dejected look in Paulo’s eyes; not the dejected look of losing a match, but the dejected look of losing somebody he loved. Of losing a good friend.

He waited a day after the match when he was sure they were back in Palermo before calling Paulo because all Paulo had spoken to him the past five days were a couple of ‘hmm’s and ‘yeah’s, and that wasn’t acceptable.

Paulo finally answered the call on like, the fifteenth ring. “Yeah?” he said.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. “Great game.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Paulo.”

A long pause, then, “What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Paulo, what the fuck,” Alvaro said. He didn’t _mean_ to flare up but. But this was _Paulo_ and he _obviously wasn’t okay_ and Alvaro needed to know _why_. “Just talk to me, will you? Stop trying to lock yourself up for once. You know it never works!”

There was a long, long silence, and Alvaro was half afraid that Paulo had gotten mad. But then, in the softest trembling voice, Paulo said, “Alvaro.”

And then he promptly burst into tears, and _God_ , Alvaro was so fucking confused. “Hey,” he said, beginning to panic. “Hey, Pau. Hey. What’s wrong? C’mon. Talk to me.”

“I just,” Paulo sobbed. “I _hate_ myself.”

Alvaro was taken aback with the way Paulo said that, with such venom, such ferocity, like he wished he had never existed. Which was stupid, because, like. What would Alvaro ever _do_ without him?

“Don’t say that,” Alvaro said gently. “What happened?”

“Isa,” Paulo whispered. “We broke up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just,” Paulo continued. “Just. I never learn, Alvi, I _never fucking learn_. Just when I think I’ve got it all going for me. I go and whack it all down with a sledgehammer again. I can never get anything right, Alvaro, I have never gotten anything right and I don’t think I will ever. I just. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Alvaro paused. “Uh. What exactly happened?”

“Alvaro,” Paulo said, and his voice was thick and clogged up and it tore Alvaro apart just to listen to it. “I just. I’m sorry. I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Life,” Paulo sighed, then suddenly let it all out at once. “I had a threesome, okay? I had a fucking threesome while Isabella was away and I was fucking _drunk_ and fuck, Alvaro, I don’t even know who the girl was! She was just some random girl at Franco’s party and I. I just. I don’t fucking _know_ , Alvaro.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“I know. I know I fucked it all up. Just. Just don’t talk to me like you pity me, okay, I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your judgemental stare and I don’t need to hear what you’re thinking about me right now. I’m a cheater. I’m a fucking _slut_ and I’m a cheater and I don’t deserve another nice thing ever in my entire fucking life, okay, I know that!”

“Paulo –“ Alvaro said again, but Paulo had hung up. And he didn’t take any more of Alvaro’s calls.

So Alvaro called Franco, whose number he had stolen from when Paulo had left his phone lying around. For, you know. Emergencies like this.

“Uh,” Alvaro said when Franco took his call. “It’s Alvaro. Happy birthday.”

“Yeah,” Franco scoffed. “Very happy.”

“Um. About Paulo.”

“He isn’t talking to me.”

“Is he –“

“He can fuck right off and do whatever the fuck he wants, okay? Bye.”

And Alvaro got hung up on for the second time in like, two minutes, and this time he was filled with rage. No one talked about Paulo that way. Not even Franco. _No one_ in this _entire world_ was allowed to talk about his best friend like that.

The next decision Alvaro made was without much – if any – contemplation. It was fuelled by anger and worry and just. The _need_ to be by Paulo’s side.

Alvaro booked a plane ticket to Palermo.

\------

When Alvaro arrived in Palermo it was ten in the morning and the sun was inappropriately bright for the mood. With his cap pulled over his eyes he hopped into a cab to Paulo’s house.

Paulo didn't come to the door, as expected, but Alvaro hadn't forgotten about the spare key he was given. He opened the door and stepped warily inside, not entirely sure where he should be expecting Paulo to be.

He eventually found Paulo in his room, lying face down in his mussed up sheets in only his boxers, his hair wilder than the lionhead look he’d sported when Alvaro had first met him. Stray beer cans lay on the floor and the windowsill. Alvaro went over and gently placed a hand on the back of Paulo’s head, afraid that he was asleep.

Once Paulo seemed to stir, Alvaro gently moved his hand in Paulo’s hair, softly massaging his scalp while perhaps just discreetly letting him know that Alvaro was there. Both physically and emotionally.

Paulo cracked an eye open but shut it again once he saw it was Alvaro. “Thought you were Isa,” he said, and Jesus Christ, it broke Alvaro’s heart.

Alvaro hopped over Paulo and into the empty side of the bed. Before Paulo could protest, he lay down next to Paulo, wrapped Paulo up tightly in both his arms, and hugged Paulo tightly against him, pressing Paulo's face into his chest.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

“It’s all gonna be okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it's you,” Alvaro briefly lifted Paulo's head to smile at him. “You're my little fighter. And everything will always turn out okay for you.”

Paulo’s eyes started shimmering with fresh tears, and Alvaro grasped the nape of his neck and pulled him close again. He couldn’t bear to look at Paulo’s face, so miserable and tear-stained and twisted in the most heartbreaking grimace. He had never in his life seen Paulo that way, never, and part of it was due to the distance that had always between them but most of it was due to the fact that Alvaro knew this was the lowest Paulo had ever been.

“Paulo,” he whispered. He hoped he didn’t need to spell out the word ‘threesome’ for Paulo to get what he was trying to ask. “Was it Franco?’

Paulo gripped a tight handful of the front of Alvaro’s t-shirt and burrowed his face further into Alvaro’s chest, and Alvaro took that as a yes.

“I told him not to hurt you,” Alvaro said. He pulled Paulo closer even though it didn’t seem possible. “I fucking told him, if he dared to hurt you I’d fucking _kill him_.”

“It’s not entirely his fault,” Paulo mumbled into his chest, and _God_ , even in times like this Paulo was still so forgiving and.

And Alvaro loved him.

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah? Pau.”

“I don’t know,” Paulo sobbed. “I just. Don’t know anymore. I don’t know who I am. I do things like this…things that I thought I never would have done. Things that I never _should_ have done. It’s not the first time, Alvaro. You know.”

Alvaro knew. Alvaro remembered the time with Camila.

“Everything turned out okay, yeah?”

“Did it?” Paulo asked. “Did it, Alvaro? Or am I still the same person, the same fucking asshole who doesn’t know what he wants and would literally fuck any dude in the world to figure it out? _Who am I, Alvaro_?”

“You are my best fucking friend in this entire _fucking world_ and if you have to fuck up your entire life just to find the right way then I will be right there because I would _never_ leave your side and it doesn’t matter what the fuck I have to _do,_ okay, Paulo.”

“Yeah?” Paulo had begun sobbing again, his arms tightly snaking around Alvaro. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Alvaro whispered, his hand carding through Paulo’s hair again. It seemed to soothe Paulo. It soothed Alvaro, too. “Always, Paulo.”

“I hate myself so much,” the thickness in Paulo’s voice hadn’t subsided. “I wish, like. I wish I wasn’t _me_ , you know? There are so many things about myself that I would change. I wish I knew what I was doing. I wish I hadn’t been so. Just. Alvaro. You think it was right for me to tell her?”

“Of course. Would you have kept it from her forever? Would it still be real?”

“I just. I feel so stupid for just telling her like that.”

“You were being honest, Pau. That’s a good thing.”

“What if I’d never told her?”

Alvaro gently grasped Paulo’s neck again and lifted Paulo’s head. Paulo’s eyes searched Alvaro’s frantically, pursuing an answer, and his lips pressed more firmly together when Alvaro smiled at him encouragingly. “Then you wouldn’t be you, and I would be very sad because I fucking _adore you_ , and if you were anyone other than you I would hate it very much.”

And then Paulo laughed a little, and fuck, it lit up Alvaro’s entire world. It was even brighter than the sun outside. Paulo closed his eyes and leaned his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“ _You’re_ the worst,” Alvaro teased.

“I am, aren’t I?” Paulo sighed. “I just. I feel like this is the last straw, you know? In finding someone I love. It’s the final thing before I just. Lose it forever. It’s like, it’s literally strike three, and now I’m out.”

“Strike three?” Alvaro asked. He only ever remembered Paulo being serious about two girls in his life.

“Camila, Isabella,” Paulo recited the names in Alvaro’s mind.

And then he just stopped and turned to Alvaro, his eyes finding Alvaro’s again, the beautiful specks of green so magnificently reflecting the afternoon sunlight, bright and dark in the same instant. He just. Stopped. And so did Alvaro’s world; he found himself lost, mesmerized by the emerald pools of Paulo’s troubled eyes for just a few moments before it clicked.

 _Alvaro_ was the third strike.

It was then Alvaro’s turn to search for answers in Paulo’s eyes, his gaze darting around violently, matching the pounding of his heart. He’d never meant to hurt Paulo. He’d never meant to be one of Paulo’s strike-outs, because fuck, he would literally do _anything_ if it meant he and Paulo could have their dreams _and_ each other at the same time.

But he swore, he had never loved Paulo more than he did in that very moment; Paulo, stripped bare down to his very core, torn, tattered, ripped to shreds, the most vulnerable he had ever been, lying with his tear-stained face literally four inches away from Alvaro’s. Alvaro _loved him_ , even at his lowest low.

So without any thought at all, just like how he’d ended up in Palermo in the first place – Alvaro gently pressed his lips against Paulo’s.

The kiss was warm and familiar and Alvaro felt the same rush as he did the other two times they’d kissed. After five whole years, it was still the same.

Paulo gasped when they pulled apart, before making a little tortured noise halfway between a chuckle and a groan. His eyes weren’t open, just hooded, his incredibly long eyelashes fanning his cheeks, and Alvaro couldn’t help but think how beautiful Paulo was.

Alvaro slid his hand up to the back of Paulo's head and directed Paulo's gaze to meet his own. He saw Paulo gulp as his eyes settled on Alvaro’s, now less grotesquely sad and more curious. Curious and eager, like he was using them to ask Alvaro, ‘what if we continue?’ and at the same time tell him, ‘I really want to find out.’

Alvaro mustered a smile and a slight raise of the eyebrows – and Paulo responded, desperately and _instantly_ , by diving in and letting his lips crash against Alvaro’s.

It was like everything suddenly clicked into place. Paulo’s hand was moving to the middle of Alvaro’s back, unable to move Alvaro but instead causing himself to be pulled closer. Their bodies moved in unison against each other, assisted by their hands, as their lips sought solace in each other's, in the fact that this was so indescribably _familiar_ and neither of them knew _why_ but only that they _needed more_.

Alvaro wasn’t sure how long it was before they surfaced, gasping for air, foreheads pressed together. His hands were grabbing both sides of Paulo’s head, and Paulo’s were just. Just travelling every inch of Alvaro’s body he could get them on, but right then stopping at Alvaro’s abdomen, a handful of Alvaro’s shirt in his fist.

Alvaro gently used his thumbs to wipe the remnants of the tears on Paulo’s cheeks. Paulo was just. He was just so _beautiful_ and so _small_ and Alvaro wanted to protect him _forever_. He wanted to make sure no one, no one _ever_ , could lay a finger on Paulo. Because Paulo. Paulo was _his_ and no one could tell him otherwise, and even if he could never be by Paulo’s side to take care of Paulo, he would always be _right there_ and he would always do whatever Paulo needed him to do.

He gently ran his hands down Paulo’s naked chest, just gently down, tracing the line of Arabic words on his ribs before moving his fingers over the two stripes on Paulo’s forearm. Paulo seemed to shrink and glow at the same time on every part of his body Alvaro laid his hands on. He grasped tightly onto Alvaro’s shoulders, his eyes peacefully shut, giving short gasps of breath as Alvaro worked his way. His hands slowly began to move, slowly letting go of Alvaro’s shirt and reaching underneath it, his tender fingers softly caressing Alvaro’s bare skin.

And right then Alvaro didn't care. He didn't give a fuck about wrong or right, risk or regret, rewards or repercussions. He didn't give a fuck because all he wanted was Paulo. All he wanted was to love Paulo the way he should have been all along, and all he wanted was to see that the questions Paulo had been asking all these years had answers that lay between them both. That Paulo had been unable to find them because there wasn't, and there wouldn't ever be, anything else like Alvaro and Paulo.

So he reached for the small of Paulo’s back and pulled him closer until they were connected from top to toe; and from there it wasn't too hard for Alvaro to roll over and pull Paulo on top of him.

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered, his lips soft and moist against the crook of Alvaro’s neck. He sounded breathless and affectionate and so _desperate._ “Alvaro.”

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Alvaro said, tracing a line of kisses down the back of Paulo’s neck. “Yeah?”

Paulo’s head popped back up, his hands gently cupping Alvaro’s cheeks. His eyes were shimmering again but this time with some sort of exhilaration that Alvaro thought he had a good idea of. The look in them was loving and hopeful and just. _God,_ Alvaro was so fucking _weak._

Then Paulo smiled, he smiled sadly at Alvaro, and he shook his head.

Alvaro raised his head to meet Paulo’s lips, the feeling so familiar and foreign at once, like visiting a place he once loved but lost. Alvaro just. He just _needed_ Paulo, and he had no fucking clue where that feeling had come from but. He just did. He had loved Paulo longer than he could even remember and if he had to live another day knowing that he had never tasted Paulo the way he had always wanted, Alvaro felt like he would _die_.

Paulo gave a loud gasp as Alvaro’s hands moved south to grasp his butt, before releasing it as a harsh breath in between Alvaro’s lips. He gave this little pained sound that sounded almost inhumane.

Alvaro stopped, suddenly afraid that he was making Paulo do this against his will. Or that he’d hurt Paulo in some way because he was just so fucking oblivious to what his hands were doing; they had their own mind and they just wanted _all of Paulo_.

But Paulo only gave another one of those sounds and moved his lips to Alvaro’s ears, and he whispered, “Please don’t stop.”

And oh, Alvaro _wouldn’t_. He grasped the fabric of Paulo’s shorts and felt Paulo buckle, rubbing his semi against Alvaro’s own. Paulo gently brushed his lips against Alvaro’s before he slowly slipped out of Alvaro’s grasp, moving down and lifting Alvaro’s shirt to expose some skin for Paulo to kiss. Then he reached the top of Alvaro’s jeans, and _God_ , _fuck_ , if he was going to do what Alvaro thought he was, then Alvaro felt like he would die, too, just in a different way.

Paulo very gracefully undid Alvaro’s belt and jeans – must be all the practice he’d gotten, Alvaro’s heart fell as he thought – and tugged them down Alvaro’s thighs along with his underwear. Alvaro’s hands stayed as long as they could in Paulo’s hair before they eventually lost grip when Paulo just. Kept moving downwards.

When Paulo’s fingers surrounded Alvaro’s length, Alvaro gave a groan between his gritted teeth. He felt the weight of the past six years suddenly crash down on him. The walls that he’d built to keep everything out. They all fell.

He saw and felt Paulo give him a few tough strokes before he slowly leaned in and ran his tongue along Alvaro’s length. And Alvaro’s mind simultaneously went _‘FUCK YES’_ and _‘HELL NO’_ and he was just. He couldn’t _believe_ this was actually _happening_. That Paulo. Paulo was. Doing _that_.

And Alvaro just had this sudden urge, this sudden _need_ to _kiss Paulo_. He reached over and grabbed a fistful of Paulo’s hair and just pulled until Paulo let go of his dick, and he dragged Paulo until Paulo’s lips were crashing into his again and Alvaro was in this magical world where nothing else existed besides the both of them.

“You want this, Alvi?” Paulo whispered.

Fuck, of course Alvaro fucking wanted it. But he loved that Paulo asked. Because Paulo was, well, Paulo, and he would always put others first even if it meant he didn’t get what he wanted. And Alvaro was just so overwhelmed, so _attacked_ by the sudden downpour of feelings towards Paulo that he failed to reply coherently, and instead just joined his lips to Paulo’s again and kissed the hell out of him as a yes.

Paulo eventually tore himself away from Alvaro, first to help him out of his t-shirt and second, to make his way back down again and surround Alvaro’s dick – this time with his lips, and _God_ , Alvaro felt like he was going to burst into flames. Paulo’s eyes locked onto Alvaro’s as he lowered his head, slowly swirling his tongue until his lips touched Alvaro’s balls. Alvaro threw his head back on the pillow with a loud inhuman gurgle, unable to decide whether he’d rather watch Paulo literally suck the fucking life out of him or if he couldn’t bear to do it.

One of Paulo’s hands slid up Alvaro’s hip, gently caressing his skin until it found Alvaro’s hand. And Alvaro couldn't do anything but hold on tight, hold on for dear life because Paulo was taking him on a ride unlike any one before. He intertwined his fingers with Paulo’s. It just. Felt so _right_.

Alvaro was fucking _convinced_ that Paulo had a magic tongue or magic fingers or whatever, because he got Alvaro leaking precome in no time at all. And Paulo just continued taking in all his saltiness, and Alvaro was like, so _close_ , and he didn’t want this to end so quickly so he flailed his arms towards Paulo and, when he couldn’t fucking _find_ Paulo, called, “Pau. Pau, please.”

Paulo stopped. He left Alvaro’s dick alone and started tracing a line of kisses up his happy trail, up his abdomen, on his Adam’s apple, and along the side of Alvaro’s neck, and fuck, Alvaro was just. He was just so tingly everywhere because Paulo was _all over him_ and Alvaro _never wanted it to stop_. He caught a handful of Paulo’s hair and turned Paulo’s head so his lips could find the little tender spot beneath Paulo’s ear.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered, lips blindly brushing until they found Alvaro’s. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Paulo ran his lips down Alvaro’s messy beard, tip of his tongue tracing tiny circles, until he reached Alvaro’s ear. And then he whispered into it, “I want you to fuck me.”

Alvaro’s entire world stopped.

“What?” he asked. Thrill shot up his spine. He’d, well. Obviously never done this before. So, like. “I don’t know how to.”

“Would you like to?” Paulo asked, and God, Alvaro was just so _fond_ of him.

Alvaro said the very first thought that came to his mind, which was, “Fucking hell yes.”

Paulo gave this shy little chuckle. Evidently he wasn’t really thinking about anything else, but to be fair, neither was Alvaro. He just. Wanted _this_. He wanted what was inevitably coming and he didn’t care, didn’t _want_ to care about what it could have possibly meant, what it could have possibly done to his life. He thrusted his hips against Paulo’s and heard a breath hitch in Paulo’s throat.

“C’mon,” Alvaro urged.

He helped Paulo out of his shorts, both their fingers fumbling together as their lips refused to leave one another. Paulo lay on his back, putting a pillow below his waist.

“You gotta, you know, uh,” Paulo gestured vaguely, and he looked so flustered but so turned on at the same time and he was _adorable._ “You know, open. Me.”

One of Paulo’s hands moved to stroke himself while the other wandered to his hole, and. Alvaro just couldn't stop _staring_. His own hand hovered inches above Paulo’s, wanting to take over but not entirely sure how. He watched as Paulo teased his own opening, toes curling on the bed, bottom lip trapped under his teeth.

“You wanna, uh,” Paulo started, and then locked eyes with Alvaro. “Help me?”

Alvaro placed his finger at Paulo’s hole and saw Paulo’s toes curl even more. Paulo gave a harsh exhale and began to stroke himself harder, and Alvaro was like, “Uh. Do I, you know…?”

He never did complete his sentence but Paulo got it. “You could use your tongue, but,” he paused, grabbing the back of Alvaro's neck and pulling Alvaro down for a kiss. “You don't have to.”

Then he grabbed Alvaro’s hand and fucking _stuck Alvaro's fingers in his mouth_. He sucked gently on them, tongue swirling around to wet them, and _fuck_ , Alvaro felt his dick twitch violently. It was like those porn videos he always watched but. Like, up close. And with Paulo. Who was like, the most beautiful person on earth.

Paulo took Alvaro's fingers out of his mouth with a pop and led them back to his hole. “Inside,” he whispered. “Just. Just one, first.”

Alvaro hesitantly slid a finger into Paulo and felt Paulo wince, every muscle in his body seemingly contracting at the same time. He took it back out, afraid that he’d hurt Paulo.

“No, just,” Paulo whispered, breathless. He thrust his hips weakly against Alvaro's hand. “Slowly.”

Alvaro draped one of Paulo’s legs over his shoulder, watching every sliver of change on Paulo’s face as he slid his finger in, and then out, for a few times before Paulo grabbed Alvaro's hand and sucked on his fingers again. The inside of Alvaro's mouth was just. Suddenly so wet and _itching_ to taste Paulo.

He kissed the inside of Paulo’s ankle that was hanging on his shoulder, causing Paulo to open his eyes and search hazily around to find out what was happening. Alvaro kept his eyes on Paulo’s as he kissed a line up Paulo’s calf, then the inside of Paulo’s thigh, the emerald specks of Paulo’s eyes turning more and more crazed with each kiss, like he wasn't sure, couldn't _believe_ what was going to happen.

Alvaro gently nuzzled the base of Paulo’s dick with his nose when he reached it, and Paulo stopped stroking himself to run his hand along Alvaro’s cheek; a sudden act of tenderness that threatened to rip Alvaro’s heart out. Alvaro knew Paulo was trying to protect him, trying to shield him from all the things Paulo had done or let other men do to him or _had_ to let other men do to him. But Alvaro just. Alvaro wanted to. Alvaro wanted all of it.

So he moved a little more downwards and ran his tongue along the entrance of Paulo’s hole. Paulo gasped loudly, releasing it as a painful-sounding moan, and then said, “Oh, _fuck._ Fuck. Alvaro.”

And Alvaro thought he'd done something wrong so he popped his head back up – only to see this _affectionate_ look on Paulo’s face, just. Just a look of awe and wonder and just a tiny bit of desperation that he was trying to hide.

“You don't –“ Paulo started, but Alvaro was already a step ahead in disobeying him. He dipped his head again and repeated the motion across Paulo’s hole, alternating between kissing and licking and fingering and just. Wow, he felt good. Pleasuring Paulo felt _good_.

One finger became two when Paulo told him he could. Paulo hissed again, though, which made Alvaro question everything he was doing until he saw the look of _eager anticipation_ on Paulo’s face. Which he was pretty sure was on his own face as well.

“You ready soon?” Alvaro asked, originally because he had _no fucking clue_ how to tell, but which, fuck, completely exposed exactly how impatient he was.

Paulo gave a choking laugh. He reached over and took Alvaro’s free hand, which was resting on Paulo’s thigh, and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Alvaro leaned over and pressed his lips against Paulo’s open ones, feeling Paulo’s resulting moan of satisfaction down in his bones. He slowly rubbed his length against Paulo’s, causing Paulo to shudder. And moan again. And Alvaro thought, _man,_ he wouldn’t mind spending the whole day trying to find out every single thing that made Paulo moan like this.

Paulo finally stopped sucking on Alvaro’s lips and tongue to turn to his bedside drawer for a condom, and Alvaro couldn’t help but give a growl into Paulo’s ear, “Fucking finally.”

The brightest smile appeared on Paulo’s face as he moved to gently peck Alvaro on the lips. Alvaro was just. Momentarily so mesmerized, again, by Paulo’s eyes, sparkling so bright and young and eager. Alvaro ran a thumb over Paulo’s bottom lip. Paulo just. Deserved all the protection in the world.

“Come on,” Paulo whispered, pushing the condom into Alvaro’s hand before deciding that he’d like to help Alvaro put it on. He did it with slightly shaking hands, rolling the condom over Alvaro’s length before licking his own fingers and giving Alvaro a few strokes. He responded to Alvaro’s eyebrow raise with a soft “Yeah. Go.”

Paulo held on tightly to one of Alvaro’s hands as Alvaro stopped at his entrance, barely touching Paulo’s hole with the tip of his dick. He felt Paulo hold his breath in anticipation, and he felt Paulo let it all out in a long, long painful groan as Alvaro slowly slid all the way in.

And fuck, Alvaro had never been this _scared_ in his life, scared of doing it wrong and scared of screwing everything up. Scared of _hurting Paulo_ , because fuck, Paulo just. Paulo deserved the _best_. But Paulo had this grimace on this face that almost made him unrecognizable, and Alvaro was just so _terrified_.

Alvaro leaned over and gently cupped Paulo’s face with his now free hand. “Paulo,” he whispered. “Hey. You okay?’

Paulo opened his eyes. They darted around Alvaro’s face desperately, his breaths warming Alvaro’s cheeks as he tried to settle down. He hooked his arm under Alvaro’s and buried his face in Alvaro’s shoulder, and Alvaro felt Paulo’s lips gently surround his clavicle as he breathed, “Yeah, I’ll be fine, just. Just don’t stop, Alvi, just. Please.”

And fuck, Alvaro _never wanted to stop._ So he repeated it as Paulo gave weak cries into his shoulder with every movement, out then in again, slowly several times, as gently as he could manage – because fuck, Alvaro just. Just wanted to fuck the hell out of Paulo. Paulo just, he just felt so good, being filled by Alvaro, and Alvaro felt a shudder rock his own body as he thrusted gently. He knelt back on his knees, holding Paulo’s thighs apart to ease him further open, and watched as Paulo slowly stopped looking so tortured and started looking more satisfied, his fists finally letting go of the sheets on either side of him and instead reaching up to grab fistfuls of Alvaro’s hair and pull Alvaro down to kiss him.

He pulled his lips away from Alvaro’s, only to hold Alvaro tightly by his cheeks and stare madly into Alvaro’s eyes, his hair all strewn over his forehead and everything glistening with sweat and making him look like some sort of psychopath. But his fingers remained soft and tender and loving as they traced Alvaro’s thin beard, his cheekbones, and his brow line, and his voice remained gentle as he whispered, “Alvaro.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered back in reply, briefly dipping his head for another kiss. He was shaking, Alvaro, shaking with how fucking _turned on_ he was and how _beautiful_ Paulo was.

“Hold me down, yeah?” Paulo asked frantically, like he was afraid Alvaro would say no. “I…I like it. When you hold me down.”

The fact that Paulo had never done it with Alvaro and hence shouldn’t have _known_ that he liked _Alvaro_ to hold him down only lingered for a millisecond in Alvaro’s mind. He didn’t _care how_ Paulo knew he wanted it _._ He would do literally _anything_ Paulo wanted him to do.

So he grabbed Paulo’s thighs and wrapped them around his waist, then curled his fingers around Paulo’s wrists and pinned them down on both sides above his head, feeling desire pool down low in his belly when Paulo threw his head back with a gasp. He leaned over Paulo, tracing kisses down his non-existent jawline and his neck, the entire length of his body pressing Paulo into the pillows and mattress. He thrust harder each time, Paulo’s loud throaty moans of ‘fuck’ that lasted just the length of each thrust spurring him on.

Alvaro shifted and, as he did, felt Paulo’s entire body clench and his hands ball tightly into fists, his wrists hardening. Paulo’s face was contorted unrecognisably again, a look that was half pain, half pleasure. He breathed, so softly and incoherently that Alvaro almost missed it, “You got it. Right here.”

And Alvaro had to admit, okay, he was pretty proud of himself. He kissed Paulo some more, rubbing his beard along Paulo’s cheeks, along his neck, hungrily running his tongue over Paulo’s skin. He kissed and thrusted and squeezed Paulo’s wrists so hard he was doubtful the blood supply still existed, until Paulo finally opened his fists and allowed Alvaro to intertwine their fingers.

“Alvaro,” Paulo called again, into Alvaro’s neck as he was working the soft spot on Paulo’s neck. He struggled to free one of his hands from under Alvaro’s, and Alvaro let him. Alvaro let him take his hand and guide it to Paulo’s – _fuck_ , hard as fuck cock, and he let Paulo make him wrap his fingers around it and stroke him. “I’m so close,” Paulo mumbled weakly. “Alvaro. I’m so close.”

There was this rush that shot up Alvaro’s spine, both cold and hot at once. He murmured a reply into Paulo’s mouth, tightened his fingers, and started stroking Paulo hard. At the back of his mind he still remembered how Paulo liked it – slow but with force, teasing the area beneath the head, finger running over his slit – and he just. He gave Paulo _all of it_. He gave Paulo everything he wanted. He thrusted and he stroked and he shoved his tongue into Paulo’s mouth and tasted every moan, every cry, every breathless mutter of ‘fuck,’ every gasp of fresh air that Alvaro allowed Paulo to have.

He tasted all of Paulo’s hurt, all the misery and disappointment and failure and the frustration of having to try over and over again over the last five years; he tasted the omnipresent sense of _despair_ in Paulo’s life, a baseline level of agony in which Alvaro had the biggest part to play.

Paulo came while muttering Alvaro’s name under his breath, over and over again, _Alvaro, Alvaro, Alvaro_ , like a mantra. He came when Alvaro thrust himself all the way into him, fingers curled tightly around Paulo’s dick, sharing gasps and shudders and short breathless huffs.

Alvaro kissed Paulo until he calmed down, until he stopped _fucking shaking,_ until his entire body gave one last shudder before collapsing into a soft whimper between his lips.

“Alvaro,” he whispered one last time, before heaving a long sigh and closing his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” Alvaro planted a line of kisses down Paulo’s cheek. “I’m not done yet.”

Paulo opened his eyes again, the specks of pale green livening in the darkest way. One of his hands disappeared briefly, and then reappeared near Alvaro’s lips, covered with Paulo’s come.

Alvaro’s lips parted when Paulo nudged them, and then he was _tasting Paulo_ , tasting the result of the past hour or so, and fuck. Paulo tasted. He tasted like nothing Alvaro had ever imagined, but Alvaro just couldn’t _stop_ sucking on Paulo’s fingers like they were a lollipop, aware that Paulo was very intently watching every expression on his face. And looking very satisfied about it, too.

Alvaro pulled out as gently as he could as Paulo hissed softly, his other hand slowly moving to cup Alvaro’s dick, slowly rolling the condom off it. He pulled his fingers out of Alvaro’s mouth and stuck them in his own, maintaining eye contact with Alvaro as he sucked Alvaro’s spit off them – and fuck, Alvaro just. Just felt so _weak_ all over, his skin tingling and his lips almost sore with the temptation to place them on Paulo’s and leave them there forever. And his cock aching for Paulo’s touch, aching for Paulo to make him come.

Paulo sat up, dragging Alvaro into a kneeling position. He gave Alvaro a final kiss on the lips before he lowered his lips over Alvaro’s dick again, and _fuck_ , it was like Alvaro’s entire world was falling down around him, but he didn’t _care_ because if this was how it felt to live in the ruins, then Alvaro would gladly do so.

Alvaro lifted himself off the bed, slowly beginning to thrust into Paulo’s mouth. He grabbed a handful of Paulo’s hair, guiding his movements; he tried to be gentle, but. But Paulo’s lips were so _soft_ around him and Paulo was doing magic again with his tongue and Alvaro just wanted _all of it_ and he wanted it _immediately_.

His world exploded in little fireworks in front of his eyes when Paulo tongued his slit, using his hand to stroke the remaining length. He leaned over Paulo’s shoulder, not entirely sure how to get the rest of his body in a position comfortable enough to match what was happening _down there_. He was vaguely aware of his fingernails scratching the skin on Paulo’s back, his lips planting wet kisses all over the skin he could reach. And he thought, _damn, Paulo is fucking good at this_.

And Paulo remembered, too – Paulo remembered exactly how Alvaro liked it, hard, rough strokes, like his orgasm was something stubborn that needed to be forcefully sucked out of him. And that was exactly what Paulo did, he literally sucked the orgasm out of Alvaro, fingers and tongue and lips working in tandem to bring Alvaro the ultimate pleasure, the best orgasm Alvaro remembered ever having. The best orgasm since the last one Paulo had given him. One that released all the pent-up frustration and heartache ever since they found out they had feelings for each other, one that dispelled, albeit temporarily, all the demons in Alvaro’s mind. One that made him forget everything that had happened save for that very moment. It felt like liberation, in every sense of the word.

Alvaro pulled himself out of Paulo’s mouth before he came, but had his come land all over Paulo’s bare chest as Paulo continued to violently stroke him, now looking _really satisfied_ with what he’d done to Alvaro. He gave a raspy laugh as some of Alvaro’s come landed on his chin and Alvaro moved to wipe it off. And then Alvaro just. He _collapsed_ into a heap on the bed, wondering if the stars he was seeing were real or if he was just. Going crazy.

Paulo wiped himself with the sheets before falling into the heap with him, gently kissing the rest of the shudders out of Alvaro. He was gazing fondly at Alvaro, like Alvaro had some sort of silly-looking face after he’d come. Which, well, Alvaro wouldn’t _know_ , but. It made Paulo smile, so it was just great.

And Alvaro felt the sudden urge to just. _Hug Paulo_ , so he did, lunging across and pulling Paulo close to him, knocking the breath out of Paulo. But he had no time to feel guilty before Paulo whispered, “Alvaro.”

“Yeah.”

Paulo went completely silent for the next couple of seconds, and Alvaro wanted to pull away to see what was wrong but Paulo only wrapped his arm around Alvaro and. And held Alvaro so close Alvaro could feel Paulo heart beating. Like he had something he really, _really_ wanted to say to Alvaro but. But he just couldn’t.

Alvaro had a feeling he knew what those words were.

Because he wanted to say them, too, and he couldn’t.

He slowly brought his hand to Paulo’s hair, combing through it, the both of them tangled in an awkward but pleasant position in the middle of the bed. Alvaro tugged at Paulo’s hair until he could see Paulo’s face. There was a nervous and hesitant yet _so thoroughly satisfied_ expression on it, with the recent heartbreak slowly creeping back into his eyes. Alvaro gently pressed his lips against Paulo’s, suddenly hit by this crippling fear that it was going to be the last time.

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo pushed his face back into Alvaro’s shoulder and held on tightly, like his life depended entirely on his ability to grab on to Alvaro. And Alvaro felt so completely enveloped in Paulo even though Paulo was like, the _tiniest_ ; he felt so completely and irrevocably _in love with Paulo_ and he never wanted to let go of this feeling.

Paulo slowly moved to rest his chin on Alvaro’s shoulder. Alvaro felt the vibration of Paulo’s throat as Paulo asked, a hint of desperation and panic in his voice, “Alvi, is this a dream?”

And oh, how Alvaro wished it wasn’t. He wished it wasn’t, because he’d just had the most amazing sex in all twenty two years of his existence with the one person in the entire world who could singlehandedly ruin Alvaro’s life but whom Alvaro knew _wouldn’t_. He wished it wasn’t, because he never wanted to forget this feeling, his skin against Paulo’s, just the two of them in their sweaty, exhausted, come-filled bubble.

But at the same time, Alvaro wished it was. He wished it was, because he didn’t want to return to his real life back in Turin without Paulo – and worse, having to explain this. Having to _face Mia_. He just. Didn’t want to deal with life after this and if this was a dream, then he never had to.

He couldn’t conjure a reply for Paulo, so instead he just held Paulo tightly against him, softly kissing the skin above his ear. He didn’t let go of Paulo. Not even when he felt tears on his shoulder as Paulo started to cry again, reality revisiting him earlier than it did Alvaro.

He spent the rest of the day just holding Paulo and wondering if he would rather die or have this entire day be a dream.

He came to the conclusion that he would rather die, because if he had to go, he wanted to go in Paulo’s arms.

\------

Paulo had a dreamless sleep. It was probably thanks to the fact that he was burrowed comfortably in Alvaro’s warmth, the horrors of the day temporarily forgotten as long as Paulo had his favourite scent completely surrounding him. Protecting him.

When Paulo woke up in the middle of the night, he was cold.

He was cold and not only physically; he felt cold right down to his bones, right up his spine.

Because the space in the bed next to him was empty, and Alvaro was gone.


	21. Make It Easy, Say I Never Mattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so so much for your comments on the previous chapter. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint either!
> 
> Also, the match and incident mentioned in this chapter [really happened to these dorks.](http://incredybala.tumblr.com/post/142432963731/j-u-v-e-palermo-vs-juventus-14032015) I hate them so much.
> 
> Title is from Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy.

Paulo lay there silently in bed for a whole twenty minutes, trying to remember if everything had been real or if he was just having a really, really good dream. You know, as a silver lining to all the self-inflicted hell he’d been through.

But he turned his face into the other pillow and it still smelled like Alvaro so no. It hadn’t been a dream.

The digital clock on his table glowed 5.17 in the morning. Paulo’s phone did the same, lit up with a few messages.

A few messages from Alvaro.

_You weren’t dreaming. I promise._

_I hope you’re feeling better._

_Paulo. Call me, please, when you see this. I need to talk to you._

_I’m sorry I had to leave. Just let me explain, okay? Please understand._

And Paulo just. Just _burst into tears_ right then with relief that he wasn’t going fucking crazy and gratitude that Alvaro understood him. Which was very swiftly followed by a violent blast of sorrow because it all just seemed to be yet another time some dude fucked Paulo and then left him alone for the night.

But this time, it was different. It was _with Alvaro_. It had been all Paulo could ever think of for the last five years – doing it with Alvaro. And it was every bit as heavenly as Paulo had imagined, and more, despite the circumstances. It was more than anything any other man had ever been able to give Paulo. It was worth all those nights pining, all those nights imagining that it was Alvaro holding him down. It was, as Alvaro would have said, _Valencia and Barcelona._ Even if it hurt him to remember, Paulo would never, _ever_ forget it.

So he picked up his phone again and called Alvaro, because even though it was five fucking am, he knew Alvaro would always take his call.

And he did. After two rings Alvaro picked up the phone and Paulo almost started crying again but he bit down on his lip so hard he was almost sure it was bleeding, and he didn’t say a word because he physically _couldn’t_.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. “Hey.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered back, like there was this quietness that neither of them wanted to disturb.

There was a rustling noise like Alvaro was getting out of bed, then shortly after, Alvaro said, “I’m sorry. I just. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving and Mia called me like a thousand times and I have training in the morning and I’m just. Paulo. I’m sorry for leaving you like this.”

And Paulo was still crying but now on top of that, he was smiling, too. He loved how Alvaro liked to blurt out everything at once, like he was afraid he’d forget something. But then he remembered Mia, and he just. Wow, he was _selfish_. He’d done what he did to Isabella and now he’d made Alvaro do the same to Mia.

“Alvi,” he whispered again. He just didn’t know what to _say_.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said softly.

Paulo clamped a hand over his mouth. He was so cold and lonely and he’d never felt this down, this hopeless in his entire life. His chest was tightening rapidly, like someone, like _Alvaro_ , was using his bare hands to squeeze on Paulo’s heart until Paulo could no longer breathe. He felt like he was going to actually explode from all the things he could never let go of, all the things he’d been holding onto all these years.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again. He sounded a little worried. “You okay, yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo said, but it got caught in his sob and fuck, Paulo was a fucking mess. He sobbed loudly into the phone and God, in the entire world only Alvaro was ever allowed to hear him like that. “Alvi, I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Paulo whispered. “I just. I’ve lost it. Alvaro, I’ve completely lost it.”

“You haven’t. Pau, please don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Alvi. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Alvaro said, and then paused. “Paulo, look. I don’t know if you want to remember…what happened earlier today. Or if you want to forget it forever. But I just want to tell you that, you know. I really enjoyed it, and. It’s probably wrong that I did, but…I did. And I’m sorry that, like, I took advantage of the fact that you were drunk and sad and everything. I’m sorry if I made you do things you didn’t want to. But I just want you to know, yeah. I just. I really, really wish I could be there right now, okay? I really do.”

And oh, Paulo just. Just really, _really loved Alvaro_. Hell, Alvaro wasn’t the one making Paulo do anything. Paulo wanted it just as much. If anything, _Paulo_ was the one making Alvaro do things.

“Don’t be sorry,” Paulo mumbled. “You know I wanted it.”

Alvaro gave a little chuckle. “Pau, you’re going to be just fine.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll carry you around on my back all day until you are.”

That made Paulo laugh, because, like. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Does, too,” Alvaro retorted.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Alvaro said confidently. “C’mon. Come to Turin now and I’ll carry you around all day like an oxygen tank.”

“Shut up,” Paulo laughed again. The tugging in his chest had subsided and been replaced by this indescribable feeling. A conditional fragility. Like everything was fine for then, but the world would come falling down again if Paulo didn’t have Alvaro. Because even if Alvaro had no idea what he was saying or if he didn’t mean it at all, he was wrong.

It was the other way around. Alvaro was Paulo’s oxygen.

\------

About a week later Paulo made the usual trip to Turin, this time alone, to see Alvaro.

They planned to spend the entire day cooped up at home because, well, firstly, Paulo just couldn’t survive walking around in public feeling the way he was. And secondly, he didn’t think he could take another round of random paparazzi asking him if he was going to join Juventus without actually punching them in the face. But the start of this meeting was just. Quieter than usual. In fact, they stood in Alvaro’s doorway silently for a whole five minutes just staring at each other, not knowing what to say. Paulo just. He had like, a million questions.

He was very pleasantly surprised when he saw that Alvaro had this huge box containing a 1000-piece Lego set just casually sitting on his coffee table. He hovered around it curiously, vaguely aware that Alvaro was standing close by gazing excitedly at him.

“Is this…” Paulo waved vaguely towards the box, unsure how to complete his sentence in a way that wasn’t rude or self-entitled.

“Yeah,” Alvaro grinned. “It’s for you.”

And right then, all the tension dissolved into nothing.

“Can we, uh,” Paulo said, trying and failing to suppress his excitement. “Put it together? Now?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said again. He sat on the couch and patted the space next to him. “C’mon.”

Paulo sat down hesitantly. “Is, um. Mia. Is she…here?”

“In the room,” Alvaro diverted his gaze from Paulo’s face to the table in front of them. “Finding some cable or whatever so we can watch Netflix.”

Paulo cleared his throat even though he didn’t have anything to say. He reached for the box and opened it slowly, pouring the instruction sheets and packets of bricks on the table. When Mia came out, he managed to smile at her.

They spent the afternoon putting together the gigantic Lego Colosseum as more Gossip Girl played on TV (seriously, was she ever going to stop watching that show?), although neither of them was paying attention. Mia was the only one watching, sitting quietly in the corner, smiling at Alvaro whenever Alvaro looked over.

When Mia got up in between episodes to refill all their iced teas, Paulo asked, “You haven’t told her?” and he hated that he actually felt hopeful.

Alvaro shook his head.

“You going to?”

Alvaro shrugged.

Paulo realised how different they really were.

He almost reached over and swept the half-built Colosseum onto the ground because he realised what it really was – it was merely a pity present. A ‘ _look, I can’t tell my girlfriend I had sex with you but I love that we did and here’s a huge gift to make up for it_ ’ present.

He didn’t realise how tightly his fists were clenched until Alvaro said, “Hey, you’re holding one of my pieces.”

Paulo almost threw the thing in his face, but. He just calmly unballed his fists and handed it to Alvaro.

He was thankful he did, because Alvaro took one glance at the kitchen doorway before wrapping his arm tightly around Paulo and urgently pulling Paulo tightly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Paulo’s shoulder. “Paulo. You know this. This isn’t what we need right now.”

Paulo pulled himself out of Alvaro’s grasp. He just. Suddenly couldn’t handle being close to Alvaro. “Yeah,” he lied, keeping his gaze on the ground.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again, and he sounded like he was pleading with Paulo.

“I know,” Paulo snapped, more harshly than he’d intended.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, this time sounding so _frightened_. He pulled Paulo close to him in a hug again, his lips brushing lightly against the side of Paulo’s neck. “Please. You know this means as much to me as it means to you.”

But did it? Did it _really_?

Paulo nodded and pulled away again because Mia had reappeared. He stood up and excused himself to the bathroom.

He stood there staring at himself in the mirror for a long time. Paulo just. He was suddenly really disgusted with himself. He hated himself and it was all he could do not to smash his fist into the mirror, into his own face, because he hated being this way, he hated being so _dependent_ on Alvaro. He hated that he’d cried so much over the past week that he’d run out of tears but the sorrow in his chest remained, now without any outlet of release.

Part of Paulo understood what Alvaro was getting at, really. But getting it and accepting it were two completely different things. Paulo felt so stupid to have ever believed that having sex with Alvaro would change anything at all. Because what was sex to Alvaro other than something for his own physical satisfaction?

And what was sex to Paulo other than a method of escape, a source of imagination that Paulo lived in a better world, one where him and Alvaro loved each other and weren’t afraid to let each other know?

They were on completely opposite ends of this spectrum, and this fact hit Paulo so hard he found himself in tears. Tears that had been exhausted over the past few days but. But this was just enough to bring them back.

He sat on the toilet and cried silently. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he thought perhaps one episode of Gossip Girl had finished playing.

Paulo went back into the living room and sat in his spot on the ground next to Alvaro. He didn’t touch another piece of Lego or the huge Lego Colosseum of pity. He let Alvaro complete the whole fucking thing. He only stared straight ahead at the TV like Gossip Girl was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

He flew back to Palermo on that very same day. He couldn’t handle being anywhere within a fifty-mile radius of Alvaro.

\------

Paulo found himself standing at Franco’s doorstep.

It was unclear how he got there from the airport. He just sort of floated there. He hadn’t spoken to Franco in like, two weeks, and if Paulo said he didn’t miss Franco, he’d be lying.

He stood there for a long time before he finally got the guts to press the bell. And even then, Franco didn’t come to the door until another five minutes had passed – either that or he was just standing there on the other side, mirroring Paulo, trying to decide what to do.

And then _more time_ passed as they stood there on opposite sides of the entrance, tension like a brick wall in the space between them. Paulo couldn’t read Franco’s expression, but he took the fact that Franco didn’t slam the door in his face as a good sign.

Finally, Franco said, “What, you need a fuck?”

And Paulo fucking _dove_ forward and crashed straight into Franco, arms tightly wrapping around Franco’s familiar body, face pressed into Franco’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered. “Franco. I’m sorry.”

After a brief hesitation Franco put his arms around Paulo, too, and squeezed hard. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Paulo sobbed into the front of Franco’s t-shirt. “I was angry with myself and I took it out on you and I should never have, you don’t deserve this, Franco, I’m so sorry.”

“No, I,” Franco sighed into the top of Paulo’s head. “I shouldn’t have said or done the things I said and did. I just. Paulo. I keep wanting to apologise to you but I didn’t know how, and. And you were mad pissed and I’ve been sitting around wondering what’s going on in your life now and if you’re okay because Paulo, you’re such a great friend and I’m fucking sorry, okay.”

“I’m fine,” Paulo said, then, “Fucking hell, no, I’m not.”

Franco chuckled and hugged Paulo all the way to his couch and put him down. And he made Paulo tell him every single thing, everything that had happened between him and Isa, and the resulting mess between him and Alvaro, and at the end Franco had this tortured look on his face and Paulo felt guilty all over again.

“He doesn’t, you know,” Franco started. “Feel that way about you. Maybe he did five years ago but. Maybe not anymore. Or not now, at least. Maybe he doesn’t want to. You know, feel this way.”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. It was becoming clearer by then and slowly taking over Paulo like a dark cloud – the fact that Alvaro didn't really care about him as more than a friend. Or, he didn’t _want to_. “But I do. Feel that way about him.”

“I know,” Franco said sadly.

“It’s been more than five years.”

“I know.”

“And now I have to stop? I can’t.”

“You can, too. I know you don’t want to, but you have to understand this. It’s for your own good.”

As if the universe was playing a cruel game with Paulo, his phone suddenly started ringing, lighting up with Alvaro’s name on the screen.

Paulo turned to Franco, who said, “You could start now.”

Paulo took the call and held the phone to his ear, waiting for Alvaro to speak.

A whole minute later, Alvaro said, “Paulo, can we talk?”

“I picked up your call, didn’t I?” Paulo snapped, and then felt a pang of guilt. Because even though Alvaro treated him like crap, he was _Alvaro_ and Paulo could never bring himself to be anything other than kind to him. So he said, “What?”

“It’s just, you just left so suddenly and I,” Alvaro sighed. “I gotta explain everything to you, okay?”

“Yeah, what?”

There was another pause, then, “Remember on New Year’s day, I told you I was happy with my life? That it was the perfect balance, that I had everything I’ve ever wanted and I have you so close to me for the first time and I just. I’m so happy. Do you remember?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s still that way. I still feel the way I did, and I don’t want to, like. Blow everything. Fuck everything up. Because I feel like we can never get what we want, Paulo, not all of it at once. And I know it hurts but I also know which one you want more. Which one you’ll never give up. I know you’ve been fighting for your dad and I know you’ll never give that up. I don’t want to get in the way of that, okay? I don’t want to, like. Screw up the way our lives are heading right now. And just, I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you. I do, Paulo, fuck, _I want you._ But I can’t. I know I can’t and you know I can’t. Yeah? Paulo. I’m so sorry.”

“So,” Paulo closed his eyes, dizzy from what this all meant. “So you’re staying with Mia, that’s what you’re saying?”

He opened his eyes to glance at Franco and saw Franco give a knowing raise of the eyebrow.

“Yes,” Alvaro let it out in a harsh breath. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Because. Because this is fine, now, our lives, yeah? You’re playing great football. I’m playing great football. I just. I don’t want to flip everything upside down, you know? And not just for me. For you, too.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. Because even though it hurt, it was the truth. Maybe Alvaro was a higher degree of ‘fine’ than Paulo was, but it was the truth.

“You understand, yeah?” Alvaro asked. He sounded frantic. “Paulo?”

“I do,” Paulo whispered. Because for some godforsaken reason, even though he didn't _want to_ understand, he did. “Yeah.”

“Thank you, Pau. Just. Just for every single thing. Thank you so much.”

“Mhmm.”

“And just. I won’t judge you for what you did, yeah? I mean, I know. I know you’ve been trying so hard and I know you still are, and that’s what makes me so fucking proud of you, Paulo. This is just one thing, one thing on the way there. And one day you’ll do it, okay? You’ll find yourself. I promise.”

“Okay,” Paulo said; he couldn’t manage more than one-word answers without bursting into tears again.

“And you remember what I said about carrying you around all day until you're okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. It hurt to think about it.

“I still would. I just want you to be okay, Pau. But maybe. Maybe just…while not being with me.”

Then there was silence, just complete silence. Paulo was literally at a Ioss for words. It seemed like even Franco was too afraid to breathe.

And then Alvaro asked, “Paulo. We okay?”

Paulo wasn't. Paulo wasn't okay, but he knew one thing. Him and Alvaro, they'd always be okay.

“Yeah.”

“Always?”

Paulo couldn't help but smile. “Always.”

Franco was staring at him when he hung up the phone, one eyebrow raised. “Well?” he asked.

“He's leaving everything the way it is,” Paulo said.

“What the fuck!” Franco exclaimed. “How _dare he._ How the fuck. Paulo.”

Paulo shrugged. “Whatever.”

“What the fuck kind of person is he?”

Paulo laughed. He liked how protective Franco was being. But he couldn't come up with an answer for Franco. What the fuck kind of person was Alvaro?

The only thing Paulo could think of was: he was the love of Paulo’s life.

He sat there for the whole evening, happy to be home again, far from Alvaro. Happy to just be _okay_ with Franco again. And so thoroughly entertained by Franco ranting, “What the fuck. Fuck him. Fuck him to Venus and back. He can go fuck off. You have me, Dybala, you have your Franco Vazquez, fuck buddy from Palermo. Maybe now more buddy than fuck, but who the fuck cares. I know who doesn't. Alvaro Morata.”

And Paulo thought, maybe if he gave himself some time, he would stop caring, too.

\------

In the middle of March it was Alvaro’s turn to travel to Sicily to play Palermo.

They’d done that radio silence thing again, and this time seemed much easier than the last. Mainly because they never really talked much in the week leading up to the match, just brief conversations over the phone. It was always Alvaro calling, because Paulo just, well. He didn’t know if there was some sort of protocol to follow. You know, to not seem desperate or whatever.

But he was pretty excited to see Alvaro again. Because after all, above everything, Alvaro was his best friend in the whole world.

And this time, Alvaro actually got to play.

He came in on the hour and scored ten minutes after that, and Paulo stood at the centre circle to kick off feeling like someone had just punched him in the gut. He was quite literally torn in half between going over and hugging Alvaro tight, or just standing where he was and pretending to look angry. Well, he _was_ angry. But the fact that it was Alvaro who scored just made him that much less angry.

But then another ten minutes later he had a legitimate reason to be angry, because Alvaro came ramming into him from the side, sweeping Paulo off his feet so he landed on the ground with a thud that shook all his internal organs – just like that day almost six years ago.

“What the fuck!” Paulo yelled to no one. Well, no one except Alvaro. Who was looking at him guiltily with his stupid slanted eyebrows and offering him a hand.

Paulo glared at him, and he said, “Get the fuck up, loser. Come on. Come on, get up.”

And Paulo glared at Alvaro even more as he accepted Alvaro’s hand, and Alvaro got a yellow card which, pfft. He deserved.

Palermo ended up losing because of that Alvaro goal and Paulo ended up sitting at his locker with an ice pack around his knee, and everyone thought he was fuming because his best friend had knocked him off his feet and, well, because he looked furious all the damn time but. Fact was, he was just angry because he _hated losing_. After all, it wasn’t the first time Alvaro had done something like that.

As everyone was almost done clearing out Paulo saw a figure at the door – well, it was more of a _head_ at the door, because Alvaro was standing there timidly poking his head around the frame and just _staring_ at Paulo.

“What the fuck you want?” Paulo called.

Alvaro stepped cautiously into the room and sat down next to Paulo. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Yeah,” Paulo said.

“I didn’t mean to. You know how I get.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said again. He smiled; he _couldn’t help but_ , because Alvaro was just. The most hot-tempered person _ever_. “I do. But this is your strike two, just for your information.”

“Yeah? What happens when I have three strikes?”

“Then you're not my friend anymore, asshole.”

“Harsh, Dybala,” Alvaro tutted. “It’s just like you to remember what happened during some lame youth camp that happened like seventy years ago.”

“It wasn't lame,” Paulo said, knowing that if he rebutted Alvaro’s sarcasm with innocence, he’d win. “And it was six years ago. Also, you owe me a glass of milk.”

Indeed, Alvaro rolled his eyes. “Damn it, Pau.”

“I win.”

Alvaro gave this resigned sigh, like he couldn’t help but give in to his super awesome and adorable best friend. He put his hand over Paulo’s. “Pau. How are you doing?”

“Good, yeah,” Paulo said. He even managed to look at Alvaro straight in the eye. He was okay as long as he managed to push everything to the back of his mind; everything about Isa and everything about Alvaro.

“I'm just,” Alvaro gave Paulo’s hand a squeeze. “So happy to see you again.”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked, and now he could feel this genuine warmth bleed through his chest. He missed this. He missed Alvaro. He missed Alvaro more than it hurt being close to him and if he had to live with one of those, he’d live with being hurt.

And Paulo thought – this was okay. Being nothing more than best friends with Alvaro. It was fine. It was better than radically changing both their lives, their entire lives, and having no guarantee that they’d make it out the other side of the wreckage.

Alvaro smiled and gave Paulo’s hand another squeeze. Then he reached behind him and grabbed the jersey that was there, handing it to Paulo. “Here. I saved this for you.”

Paulo took Alvaro’s jersey, which was folded so that the number nine was displayed, and placed it on his lap. Then he took his own jersey and folded it the same way, the number nine showing, and handed it to Alvaro. “For you, too.”

Alvaro’s smile grew as he ran his fingers over the raised fabric of the nine. “I always think about how we have the same number. It makes me so happy.”

“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” Paulo whispered. Living in the same country. Playing in the same league. Wearing the same number. “If you told this to 2009 Paulo and Alvaro, do you think they’d laugh?”

“Definitely,” Alvaro agreed. “They’d think we were fucking with them.”

Paulo laughed. “I still think that way. That I’m being fucked with. Because you know, like, _who would’ve thought_?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly, his gaze slowly running over all of Paulo, like he couldn’t really believe Paulo was actually sitting there. Then he suddenly scooted over and wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo, his lips soft against Paulo’s neck as he whispered, “Paulo Bruno Dybala, you are my favourite person in this entire world.”

And God, Paulo just. Felt like he was going to explode and he didn’t even know why. He couldn’t describe the feeling that was slowly consuming him from the inside. Alvaro’s palm was warm in the middle of Paulo’s back, a comfortable spot of security that slowly bled through Paulo’s entire body. His beard was softly scratching Paulo’s jaw, and Paulo noticed him gently planting a kiss on Paulo’s bare shoulder.

Paulo hooked his arms under Alvaro’s and slowly rubbed Alvaro’s back. And there didn’t seem to be any words more appropriate to replace what they wanted to say to each other but couldn’t, so Paulo whispered, “You’re my favourite person, too.”

Alvaro’s arms tightened like he didn’t want to let go. Paulo didn’t want to, either. If he had a choice, he’d just sit there in the Renzo Barbera locker room in his little bubble with Alvaro for the rest of his life. Because try as he might, he just couldn’t rationalise things a different way from how Alvaro saw them. It was like their minds were connected. They wanted the same things. They would do anything to get those things. They had to make sacrifices on the way, and they would. They wanted the best for each other. They would give each other the best they could.

Paulo felt so peaceful. He was sweaty and gross and so was Alvaro but. He felt so peaceful. He wanted Alvaro to hold him forever.

Their forever was interrupted by someone in the doorway clearing their throat.

It was Franco.

Alvaro pulled away from Paulo so quickly you’d think he was on fire. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and he just. Looked so _terrified_ of Franco. He stood up quickly, catching Paulo’s pink jersey before it fell to the ground.

“Um,” he said lamely.

Franco glared at him as he walked to his locker.

Alvaro turned to Paulo for help. And Paulo just. He _burst into laughter_ because Alvaro looked so scared and honestly, Franco was just a huge puppy who seemed to be overly-defensive about Paulo and his well-being. He wasn’t someone you got _scared of_.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered urgently when Paulo just. Attempted to stand up but fell back down on his seat with laughter.

“Franco,” Paulo said in turn, and Franco turned and glared at him instead. “Vazquez. Say hi, won’t you?”

Franco’s shoulders slumped. “Hi, Morata,” he said begrudgingly.

Alvaro gave Paulo a wide-eyed ‘ _how the fuck did you do that’_ look before mustering, “Uh. Hi, Franco.”

Franco gave Paulo a ‘ _happy now?_ ’ look, and fuck, Paulo was just so fucking entertained by all the parallel silent conversations the three of them seemed to be having. It was made worse when he turned to Alvaro and saw Alvaro just. Furrowing his brows judgmentally at Paulo.

“What?” he asked, causing Franco to turn around, too. “God, you two are such _idiots_ , I swear.”

Franco opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and shut it, and see. He was just a large baby dog. Alvaro just narrowed his eyes at Paulo.

“Well,” he said, glancing towards Franco to make sure he heard. “I’m going now.”

“Good,” Franco said under his breath.

Alvaro turned to Paulo with this look of _absolute fear and hurt_ and he looked so fucking _sad_ and his eyebrows were slanting again and fuck, Paulo just burst into another fit of giggles.

“C’mon,” he managed to say, dragging Alvaro out by the elbow. “He’s just like that. It’s nothing.”

“He hates me,” Alvaro said sadly.

“He doesn’t,” Paulo said. “It’s my fault. He doesn’t hate you, he hates how you don’t treat me the way he thinks you should treat me. So it’s…it’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be treating you this way. Yeah? So just. Don’t be upset, yeah? He’s an idiot.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alvaro said. He stood there silently for a moment. And then he smiled. “Hey, Pau. Thanks for the shirt.”

“Yeah,” Paulo grinned right back at him. He was just. Happy.

“Can you make him say bye to me? I’m very amazed by how you can boss him around.”

Paulo popped his head back around the doorway. “Vazquez. Come say bye.”

“Bye, Morata,” Franco grumbled from where he was across the room.

Alvaro burst into little silent giggles and Paulo was just so _fond_. He reached over and hugged Alvaro. “See you soon, Alvi,” he whispered.

Alvaro’s arms wound themselves tightly around Paulo again, and Paulo felt like if he just dropped everything and grabbed Alvaro and ran forever, he wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind leaving it all behind for Alvaro.

But that clearly wasn’t what Alvaro felt, so Paulo pulled away from the hug. He gave Alvaro’s shoulder a squeeze and gently nudged him on his way. He didn’t want Alvaro to miss his bus, or whatever.

“Hey,” Alvaro said after being shoved a few steps backward by the momentum. “I have a comeback.”

Paulo rolled his eyes. Of _course_ Alvaro had a comeback ten minutes after the argument had ended. “What?”

“The milk won't do anything for you, you're still fucking tiny.”

“Fuck off, Alvaro,” Paulo laughed. “I’ll get you back. You just wait. I'll kick you.”

Alvaro grinned and took a few more steps before turning back. He stared at Paulo for a few moments, mouth opening and then closing, like he was unsure if he should say what he wanted to. He looked much more anxious than he did just a couple of seconds ago.

“Paulo, uh,” Alvaro started hesitantly. His thumbs were running over the ‘Dybala’ on the back of the shirt he was holding. “I just. Um. Need to hear this from you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked. He was suddenly nervous.

“Um,” Alvaro’s hands gave a squeeze so they tightly held Paulo’s jersey, like he was afraid of Paulo’s reaction. “We okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. He felt like if he spoke any louder he’d burst into tears. “Always. You know that, Alvi. C’mon, move along now.”

Alvaro’s face fell into this look of absolute _relief_ and Paulo just. Knew that it was exactly what he wanted. Nothing less, nothing more. Just Alvaro, happy.


	22. Got The Whole Thing Figured Out, Hits Me Where It Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from She Sets The City On Fire by Gavin DeGraw.

Paulo’s mom could not stop asking about Isabella.

She’d evidently thought Paulo and Isa were going to be a ‘forever’ kind of thing. But honestly, everybody thought that. It hadn’t been difficult once they saw Paulo and Isa together. Besides, mom was probably overjoyed Paulo’d finally gotten a girlfriend again.

So Paulo decided that the next time she was Palermo, he was going to sit her down and he was going to tell her everything.

Well, minus the sex parts, but _everything_.

She looked a mix of curious and anxious when Paulo told her, “Mom, we need to talk,” and she sat down across from Paulo and peered nervously at him, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Did anything serious happen?” she asked.

Well, yes. But Paulo knew his definition of serious probably wasn’t the same as his mom’s. So he shook his head. “No, mom, but I just. I just have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“So you know, um,” Paulo started hesitantly. “Isabella. She was only my second girlfriend, and now we’ve broken up, and. I know Mariano and Gus, at my age, they’d probably already had like, ten girlfriends, but I, well. I just haven’t been like them.”

“Paulo, what are you trying to say?”

“I just, mom. I just want to tell you that. I’m not like them. I know sometimes you’re thinking, what’s wrong with Paulo? Why can’t he get a girlfriend? I just. Want to tell you that. I can’t get a girlfriend because I don’t want to.”

And mom was just staring at him with this half-confused, half terrified look on her face, and Paulo squeezed his eyes shut because he couldn’t bear to look at her.

“I’m bi, mom. Bisexual,” Paulo whispered. “I’ve been, yeah. Been with men.”

There was complete silence, and a couple of minutes later Paulo finally pried his eyes open to see that his mom was _still_ sitting there and just. _Staring_ at him, and he couldn’t read the expression on her face and he was suddenly so _scared_. He didn’t want to hurt his mom. His mom was the strongest woman in the universe, Paulo’s role model after his father had left, and he never wanted to disappoint her, ever.

“Mom,” Paulo whispered in fear.

And Paulo’s mom just. She just ran over to the space on the couch next to Paulo, and she pounced on him and hugged him so tight Paulo felt all the air being squeezed out of him.

And then she started to _cry_ , which made Paulo cry as well, and he just. He _loved his mom so much_. He wrapped his arms around her and he cried with her and he said, “Mom, I’m sorry.”

“No, Paulo, baby,” she said. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry about yourself.”

“Are you…like,” Paulo wrapped his arms more tightly around her. He had no idea why he expected this emotion to be the primary reaction whenever he came out to someone. “Mad?”

“No, of course not,” mom pulled away and smiled. She wiped away her tears. “Just. Just relieved, you know? And a little sad because I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. Because this doesn’t change anything, okay? It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my son and I love you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“So, um,” she cleared her throat. “What happened with Isabella? Was it this? Did she break up with you because of this? Because she seemed like such a nice girl, I swear to God, if she’s actually such a demon –“

“No,” Paulo laughed. “No, mom. She’s not a demon. We didn’t break up because of this.”

After a brief hesitation, she said, “Okay,” and God, Paulo was so _happy_ she was being so _defensive_ of him and just. He was just so _happy_.

“Mom,” he said. “Do you think…dad. Do you think he would approve?”

“Well, you know him,” she smiled wryly. “I don’t know if he would, Paulo. But I just know that he loved you very much and he’d always support you in whatever you do.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said, and he wanted to fucking _cry_ again, so he buried his face in his mom’s shirt. “Mom. Thank you. I was just, I thought you were going to be mad.”

“I would never, Paulo,” she ran her fingers through Paulo’s unruly hair. “You know, it might take some time to settle, but. But I would never be mad. How could I be? You’re my favourite son.”

Paulo burst into laughter because he knew she was obviously only saying that to cheer him up. She couldn’t have favourites. It could never have been an option when she had to take care of three boys alone.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be like Gus and Mariano.”

“Paulo, you are your own person,” she said. “I never expected you to be exactly like them. Yeah, I might’ve wondered sometimes why you weren’t as active in the girlfriend department, but. But now I know. And I don’t blame you for it.”

“I’m sorry about Isabella. I know you liked her a lot.”

“It’s okay,” she gently patted Paulo’s cheek. “You’ll find another one.”

“I will, yeah?” Paulo asked. He couldn’t help but think that he already had; the one that _didn’t want him back._

“And Paulo, if you ever meet a nice boy that you really like, you’ll bring him home for me to see, yeah?”

“Of course,” Paulo whispered. He was crying again because this. This was the acceptance he’d always needed but never knew it. “I love you, mom, thank you. Thank you so much.”

And she smiled and kissed him on the head, and she asked him about all the guys he’d met (well, _‘met,’_ ) and whether there had been any he’d hit it off with, and _God_ , Paulo _loved_ his mom and he spent the entire afternoon talking to her, sharing with her the part of his life he’d so painfully hidden from her over all those years.

And he felt the perpetual tugging in his chest finally settle – because his mom was the most important person in this entire world and as long as she was accepting, then Paulo would always be fine being himself.

\------

Thing was, Alvaro had never stopped wanting it all.

Alvaro had never stopped wanting Paulo. He had never stopped wishing him and Paulo had different lives just so they could be together. He had never stopped wondering what it would be like to hold Paulo’s hand on the street and have nobody pay extra attention to them.

But Alvaro had never stopped wanting the best for Paulo, either.

And he thought, to give that to Paulo, he only ever had one choice: To let Paulo go. To not hold Paulo back. Even if it meant the decision haunted him every single day.

But even so, he never expected life to push Paulo straight into his arms.

Paulo was breathless when Alvaro took his call. “Alvi,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said. “What? What’s the matter?”

“Alvaro,” Paulo repeated. “I’m going to Juventus.”

Alvaro’s _entire world stopped_.

“Juventus?” Alvaro practically _yelled_ into his ear after he’d gotten his shit together thirty seconds later. “Really? _Really?_ ”

“Yeah,” Paulo breathed. He gave a little chuckle. “Alvi, oh my God.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said desperately. “Paulo, are you being serious? Are you like, joking with me?”

“No, holy fuck. I just. Alvaro, can you fucking believe this?”

“No, Paulo, are you, like. You’re seriously not shitting around?”

“I’m not,” Paulo laughed. “I swear. I’m not.”

“Fuck, Paulo.”

“I know. Can you believe they want me?”

“I can, because they’d be super dumb not to want you. You’re the _best_.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered, and he still sounded like he was in complete disbelief. Which, well. Alvaro was, too.

“Are you fucking _crying?_ ” Alvaro asked. “Pau, what the fuck.”

Paulo giggled. He _giggled_. “Alvi, I’m just.”

And he didn’t continue but fuck, Alvaro didn’t _need_ him to continue. And even if he was crying, Alvaro honestly couldn’t care less. If _Alvaro_ had been in Paulo’s shoes, he was sure he’d be crying, too.

“When are you coming?” he asked. “Do you need any help? Like, packing and stuff?”

“Yeah, when they give me a date,” Paulo said. “I’ll call you, okay? And like. Like, you can come over and help me pack, if you want.”

“Of course, yeah,” Alvaro grinned at literally nobody. “Paulo. I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m so happy for me, too.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro laughed. “Pau. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re sure this isn’t an elaborate prank or whatever?”

“I sure hope not.”

Then there was silence, just complete silence over the phone save for the sound of both Paulo and Alvaro’s excited breathing. And Paulo just. Giggling softly.

“I’ll talk to you real soon, yeah?” Alvaro finally whispered.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered back. “Thank you, Alvi.”

“This isn’t a dream, yeah?”

“It’s not. It’s not.”

Alvaro hung up the phone and flopped over on his bed and stayed there for the rest of the day, smiling goofily to himself and thinking of all the things he and Paulo were going to do. When Mia came home he told her all about it and she just gazed at him adoringly like she was super amused at how excited he was. And Alvaro thought, nobody would understand. Nobody ever did. Nobody came close to him and Paulo.

He spent the night tossing and turning in bed, not daring to go to sleep, scared that the next time he woke up he’d find out that this entire thing was just a dream.

But technically it was. It was fifteen-year-old Paulo and sixteen-year-old Alvaro’s dream – to play together, for the same team. And now, six years later, their dream was coming true.

And Alvaro thought, maybe this world didn’t suck after all.

\------

Just the next day the news had exploded all over the internet and everyone Paulo knew had congratulated him.

Everyone except Franco.

Paulo couldn’t actually tell if Franco was mad or upset. He was just sitting there on Paulo’s couch, eyes directed at the TV in a stony gaze, arms crossed over his chest. Paulo had gotten him a new set of Legos as a peace offering but it just sat there sadly, untouched on the coffee table in front of Franco.

Paulo sat down gingerly next to Franco, like Franco was about to explode any moment. “Vazquez,” he said.

Franco turned and stared at him.

“Are you, um,” Paulo said. “You know.”

And then Franco suddenly reached over and _hugged_ Paulo tightly against him. “I'm not mad. How could I be mad? This is a good thing. It's good for you.”

“Yeah? You've been so, I don't know. Quiet.”

“Just. I’ll miss you.”

Paulo smiled. Franco was just as much of a sentimental piece of shit as he was. “I'll miss you, too,” he wrapped his arms around Franco. “Really, really much.”

“You'll call me, yeah? All the time?”

“All the time,” Paulo promised. “Franco. Thank you. You know, for…everything. Just, everything.”

“I had the best time of my life,” Franco whispered.

“Me, too.”

“And you,” Franco grabbed a handful of Paulo’s hair and yanked on it so Paulo would look at him. “You better not let that Morata trample all over you, yeah? Or else, fuck, I'll fly over there and take him out myself.”

Paulo laughed. “He won't,” he said, and then when Franco fucking _glared_ at him, quickly corrected himself. “I won’t.”

Franco smiled and ruffled Paulo’s hair instead of pulling on it. “You’re going to be so great,” he said. “So great, Dybala.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered.

“C’mon,” Franco gave Paulo’s shoulder a little jiggle. He looked really sad but Paulo knew that he was trying to hold it together for Paulo. He pointed at the Lego set on Paulo’s table. “Let’s do this, yeah? One last time?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, a tug at his heart. “One last time.”

So he and Franco spent that entire day, the second last till Paulo was due to depart to Turin, alternating between sitting around quietly playing with their Lego set and fucking around in Paulo’s bedroom – the past three years, basically, condensed into twenty-four hours, for memories’ sake.

\------

Alvaro arrived at Paulo’s doorstep with nothing but a backpack containing an extra t-shirt, all ready to help Paulo pack and haul his like, fifty Lego structures all the way to Turin. He was pretty sure that was all Paulo had, anyway.

Then he realised he’d forgotten to bring Paulo’s spare key, so he rang the bell. No one came to the door.

Then he heard some muffled voices and thumping footsteps, and he was pretty sure he heard Paulo yelling something, and suddenly the door opened.

And Franco was standing there, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

And Alvaro could like, _instantly_ tell what was going on and he was immediately filled with this. This _rage_ , this disbelief at the audacity of Franco to just. Just _be there_. This was _Alvaro’s_ day. _Alvaro_ was supposed to be there helping Paulo. _Not Franco._ The tiny little rational part of Alvaro knew that there shouldn’t have been any surprise about Franco being in Paulo’s house but. But Alvaro had never been a rational person and he let the anger take over. How _dare_ Franco be there. How _dare_ Franco be _fucking naked_ and like, were those _Paulo’s boxers_? Alvaro just. He was just so _mad_. He hadn't even forgiven Franco for hurting Paulo with the threesome thing, and now he had another reason to be mad.

He just stood there fucking _glaring_ at Franco, and he couldn’t even remember why he’d ever been _scared_ of Franco, and normally he was the same height as Franco but Paulo’s doorstep was three steps higher than the driveway and Franco was an entire head taller than him and Alvaro just felt like a tiny ball of rage, and he thought maybe that was how Paulo felt all the time.

It wasn’t long before he realised Franco was glaring back at him, his chin extended like he was challenging Alvaro. He was standing there, tall and naked and all like _‘I was here first’_ when he _wasn’t_ , he wasn’t because Alvaro was first, Alvaro had been there since 2009.

Alvaro narrowed his eyes, but it didn’t make Franco move one inch. He occupied the entire doorway, his hand on the door handle. He just stood there staring at Alvaro, and Alvaro was just. He was just so _jealous_. He had _never_ been this jealous in his entire life. He wondered what it would have been like to be the one in Paulo’s bed the previous night, instead of Franco. He wondered what it would have been like to wake up with Paulo, to accidentally put on Paulo’s boxers instead of his own. He wondered what it would have been like if he’d taken all the chances that had been given to him; first in 2010, and then three months ago when he’d had sex with Paulo.

Then Paulo interrupted that staring contest Alvaro and Franco were having by charging his way to the door, and he was wearing a t-shirt and some random sweatpants which he must have grabbed after realizing his boxers were missing.

“Alvi, hey,” he panted. His face was flushed pink. “Hi, come in and sit down.”

Then he dragged Franco aside so Alvaro could get in, and Alvaro was _fucking petty_ so he said the first thing he thought of as he passed Franco, which happened to be, “You have awful sex hair.”

Franco appeared shocked before giving a soft ‘psh’ sound as he followed Alvaro to the living room. “At least I’m getting some,” he said when Alvaro turned to sit down, and then pointedly glanced at Paulo. “Yeah, huh?”

Paulo blushed a deeper shade of pink and tugged at Franco’s elbow. “Go put some clothes on,” he said softly.

Alvaro glared at the half-built Lego whatever sitting on the coffee table as Franco stormed away. It obviously wasn’t done because they were too busy doing something else. It made Alvaro’s blood boil. He didn’t want to picture Paulo with _anyone else_. Paulo was _his_.

Paulo sat down next to him. “You want a drink or whatever?”

“Whatever,” Alvaro replied.

Paulo hesitated before saying, “You know I didn’t literally mean _whatever_ , right?”

“Whatever,” Alvaro said again.

“Alvi. What’s gotten into you?”

Alvaro shrugged, and then there was a sudden loud scoff from the stairs, and both Alvaro and Paulo turned to see a fully-clothed Franco descending from them.

“What’s gotten into him?” Franco said. “He’s jealous, Paulo. He’s fucking jealous.”

And Alvaro just. Suddenly felt so exposed, like Franco had seen right through him, into the deepest part of his heart, and like, he wasn’t being that obvious, was he? And he _was_ jealous, but on top of that the anger towards Franco had grown, and Alvaro stood up.

“What do you even know?” he said.

“What do I know?” Franco repeated. He took the rest of the stairs quickly and took a few wide strides, landing right in front of Alvaro, face to face, practically three inches apart. “I know _everything_ , Morata. I know how you treated Paulo and fuck, trust me, you have no fucking idea what I would do to you. I don’t care if you’re fucking jealous or whatever. Paulo is such a great friend, he is such a great person and to have been treated the way he was _and still_ come crawling back to you every time, man, Morata. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

“Why do you even give a fuck?” Alvaro said through gritted teeth.

“Because I care about Paulo, unlike you,” Franco stepped closer to Alvaro, his head gently bumping against Alvaro’s and making Alvaro take one step backwards. “And I want the best for him. So let me tell you, _Alvi¸_ you have no right. You have no fucking right to be jealous after you pushed Paulo away time after time. You don’t own him. You never will, judging by whatever the fuck you’re thinking. So just. Just stop it. Stop acting all bossy and like you care when in reality you’re just too pussy to let him know you love him.”

Alvaro wasn’t sure he had complete control of his body but he felt his fists clenching. He felt himself _shake_ with exasperation and indignation and just pure, unadulterated _rage_ , and God, he swore he could have punched Franco.

That was until Paulo suddenly came up to Alvaro and wrapped his arms around Alvaro and softly whispered, “C’mon. C’mon. Alvaro. C’mon.”

Alvaro let Paulo gently pull him away from Franco. He stared at Franco in disbelief when Franco just gave another scoff.

“I think you’d better go, yeah?” Paulo said softly, but to Franco and not Alvaro.

“Yeah,” Franco said, but stopped to spare Alvaro one last glare.

Paulo let go of Alvaro when Franco was far enough away that Alvaro couldn’t lunge at him or whatever. He walked Franco to the front door and quietly whispered something to him. They hugged. Tightly. And Alvaro’s chest started to burn again.

Franco didn’t leave before yelling across the room to Alvaro, “Look, you have him now. It’s your turn to take care of him, Morata. Treat him right, or I’ll fucking hunt you down even if it costs me my life.”

And then Paulo shushed him and pushed him out the door and shut it, and the entire house was just suddenly eerily quiet. Paulo returned to Alvaro’s side, his footsteps completely silent.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Alvaro sighed in resignation. He sat down on the couch and Paulo sat next to him. A fifteen-minute period of utter silence passed during which Alvaro just. Went through all the different stages of realization.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” Alvaro finally said.

“What?”

“He’s right about me. Everything he said about me. The way I treated you…the way I act like nothing has happened. The way I, I don’t know, act like you’re my person when you’re not. When I’ve already given you up.”

“No, Alvi,” Paulo whispered, and his voice was thick and he was looking down at his lap like he was crying. “Don’t say that.”

Alvaro reached over and hugged Paulo close to him. “Paulo, I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, Alvi,” Paulo said into his shirt. “I know. I understand. Franco doesn't understand. Okay?”

“But you just,” Alvaro sighed. “You just keep coming back, and Pau. I don't know. I keep. I keep wanting you. I don't act like it but. Don't you ever think any other way, yeah?”

Paulo’s arms wrapped themselves more tightly around Alvaro, and Alvaro took that as consent.

“Paulo,” he whispered. “Why? Why do you…you know, keep coming back even though I’m a jerk?”

Paulo pressed his cheek against Alvaro’s collarbone. His palms gently stroked circles on Alvaro’s back. He didn't say a word.

Alvaro realised that this was just going to be one of Paulo’s usual silences. Those that had become increasingly frequent ever since. Ever since Paulo first admitted his feelings towards Alvaro.

And Alvaro realised what these silences actually meant.

He heard it, he heard those three words playing in Paulo’s mind over and over again: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

He heard them because he felt the same.

He threaded his fingers through Paulo’s hair, gently cradling Paulo’s head against his chest. This was the most precious human being in the entire universe.

“Me, too,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo gave this soft little gasp. He moved his hands to Alvaro’s waist like he was going to pull away from the hug, but instead he just left them there, palms little pools of warmth through Alvaro’s t-shirt. Alvaro gently planted his lips on the top of Paulo’s head.

Paulo hastily wiped his tears before looking up at Alvaro. Paulo smiled. He smiled and Alvaro’s world started to spin. Paulo was so _close_ to him and Alvaro just. He just wanted to kiss Paulo.

He slowly moved his face closer to Paulo’s. He felt Paulo anticipating it, judging by the hitch of a breath in his throat. Alvaro stopped when their noses were touching, gently nuzzling the tip of Paulo’s nose and then his cheek. Paulo squeezed his beautiful eyes shut as his breathing resumed harshly against Alvaro’s face.

But before their lips could meet, Paulo pulled away.

“Alvaro,” he whispered, his hands travelling up Alvaro’s chest and landing on Alvaro’s cheeks. He slowly traced little circles around Alvaro’s cheekbones with his thumbs, and then gently squeezed Alvaro’s face with his palms. “Don’t turn your life upside down for me.”

But oh, Alvaro’s life _was_ upside down with or without Paulo. All he wanted was for _Paulo’s_ life to not turn upside down. All he wanted was to keep Paulo safe. It didn’t matter how fucked up his life would be as long as he could see that Paulo was safe. But he knew if he told Paulo that, then everything would be a mess again and Paulo would be angry and protective and. And Alvaro just. He didn’t need that. Paulo didn’t need that. He was willing to just protect Paulo silently.

So he nodded and he smiled, and he gently ran his thumbs along Paulo’s cheeks, under his dark eye circles. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “Yeah. You too, okay?”

Paulo smiled again and it lit up Alvaro’s entire universe. “Hey. I’m sorry about Franco.”

Alvaro shook his head. “I’m sorry for wanting to punch Franco.”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Well, sometimes I wanna punch him, too.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Hey. Do you think he, you know. Likes you?”

“Like he has a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’re you asking? Would you be jealous?”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro punched Paulo on the shoulder as Paulo dissolved into little giggles. “Just, you know. You guys bang a lot. And he cares so much about you.”

“Yeah, no, just,” Paulo shrugged. “It’s just not that way. Franco is…he doesn’t feel that way. He’s, uh. Aromantic.”

“Really?” Alvaro asked. He felt relief swiftly followed by guilt, because he thought maybe he shouldn't have felt that way. But still, he was relieved. Because _Paulo was his._

“Yeah. He's just. He's very protective. It's the only way he knows how to show he cares. Along with, you know. The physical…sex thing. But I get it. It doesn't help that he's bad-tempered as fuck, and a huge asshole when he opens his mouth. It’s a good thing he doesn't talk much.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. He was suddenly just. Not angry anymore, because even though Franco had been stern and annoying, Alvaro knew he was right. And Alvaro knew he only did it because he cared about Paulo, and Alvaro was grateful that Franco could be there when Alvaro himself couldn't. It just seemed like Franco had the _weirdest way_ of trying to push Alvaro and Paulo together, and Alvaro could never understand it. “Okay.”

“I don’t, uh. Don’t like him that way, either,” Paulo continued.

And Alvaro was so _satisfied_ he broke out in a big smile and Paulo just stared at him. He grabbed Paulo’s head with both his hands and tucked it under his arm, squeezing tightly until Paulo’s face was all pink and he was giggling again. And everything was okay, just like it had always been. Just like it would always be.

“C’mon, let’s go pack,” Alvaro said. He stood up and dragged Paulo upstairs, still a giggling mess.

Paulo sat on the ground with all his suitcases open in front of him as Alvaro emptied his entire closet, dumping clothes at Paulo as Paulo folded them and packed them nicely. And then Paulo realised he probably needed some clothes for when he visited his mom in Palermo, so he spent the next hour trying to decide which items of clothing to leave behind, and _God_ , Alvaro was just so _fond_.

At the end of the day Paulo’s suitcases were filled to the brim with all his nonsense, and he sat in the middle of all of them just staring. Probably wondering where all the time had gone.

“Hey, Alvi,” he suddenly said, breaking the peaceful silence him and Alvaro had had for the past hour or so.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said.

“We okay?”

Alvaro smiled. He hopped over Paulo’s bags and sat down next to him. He was glad he had Paulo; he was glad that he would _always_ have Paulo. And he was glad that now he could be _with_ Paulo, that all the things they’d been working for the past six years were finally happening. That he could finally be by Paulo’s side. Because Paulo was his, he always would be, and no one could tell him otherwise. Not even Franco.

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, reaching for Paulo’s hand and gently holding it in his. “Always.”

 

 


	23. Would You Take Care Of A Broken Soul?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!   
> Thank you for being so patient and understanding with me. And also again for all your wonderful, encouraging comments. You guys are my inspiration, honestly :')   
> I'd just like to let you guys know that I'm still going to take things slow here even though they're both in Juve at this stage. I would like them to enjoy every moment they have with each other :') I hope this doesn't bore you, but if you have any comments/opinions about how it's going, please let me know! Again to assure you, the exciting parts are coming :)
> 
> Next, a piece of good (?) news: I have a change of plans, I initially wanted to leave the ~happy parts~ right to the very end, namely chapter 30. I'm still going to do that, make the ~happy parts~ around chapter 30 or earlier, but I'm glad to say that I'll be extending the story further from that - i.e. I'm not just going to leave you with like, two happy chapters and bye bye.   
> If you don't get it by now: I'm extending the fic, hope to hit maybe 35 or 40 chapters :) Hope you guys are as excited about it as I am! Thank you once again for all your support and kind words <3
> 
> Title is from Take Me Home by Jess Glynne.

Paulo clung to Alvaro like an annoying leech for the first few days he was in Turin. Everything felt so _new_ and _huge_ and Paulo was just. So overwhelmed. Never in his life had he thought he would make it this big so quickly.

And Alvaro was, well. Basically the most supportive friend _ever_. He let Paulo glue himself to him mercilessly and drag him anywhere Paulo had to go, including back to Palermo a few times. He let Paulo hang around in his guestroom while Paulo searched for an apartment. When Paulo was stressed, Alvaro even let him disassemble the Lego Colosseum and build it back up again. And Paulo was just. So grateful.

But even so, Paulo had to learn to be independent. Sure, being in Turin, in Juve – it was a huge thing. But Paulo could handle it. He’d handled countless other things on his own.

When Alvaro and Mia flew off to Ibiza for their summer vacation, Paulo went back to Argentina. He hung out with his brothers and his cousins and his mom. He snuck into the Instituto hostel and slept in his old room. He spent _days_ just. Just reliving his old life, back when everything was fine and Paulo had been less of a mess. Because being in Europe had been fucking awesome, but Paulo missed all the little things. He missed his quiet life. Alvaro was used to being in the spotlight, because after all, he’d played for one of the biggest clubs in the world in Spain; but Paulo wasn’t. It was the biggest difference between them both.

And above all, Paulo was so tired of his mind bouncing around in various states. For the entire past year, it seemed like for a few weeks he’d be okay; but after that, he’d inevitably crash and burn. And Paulo was exhausted. He didn’t like the fluctuation, the hanging in the balance. He just. He wanted so badly to be _okay_.

Being in Córdoba helped. Paulo was newly fascinated at how everyone knew each other and everyone was always happy to see him. He felt so at home, so in place that he nearly didn’t want to go back to Italy, just wanted to sit there in his mom’s protective arms forever.

But eventually, a couple of weeks later, he flew back to Palermo.

He was greeted with a flashing light on his landline, just one new voicemail in the weeks that he’d been gone. Paulo couldn’t imagine who it could be. He’d told anyone who’d possibly call his landline that he was going to be away. He pressed the speaker button and let the message play.

There was like, ten seconds of complete silence, then, “Hey. It’s Isa. I, um. Could you call me? Just want to, uh, talk. Thanks.” And then ten more seconds of silence before the voicemail ended.

And Paulo was still frozen with his finger hovering above the speaker button. Remnants of Isa’s voice seemed to linger in the air. Had she forgotten something at Paulo’s place? Did she have something that belonged to Paulo? What did she mean by ‘talk’?

Paulo sat down on the couch. He dialed Isa’s number by memory, three times, but stopped at the last number each time. He briefly considered calling Alvaro and asking him what to do, but decided that would be weird. He thought of Franco, but. They hadn’t spoken about the threesome and its aftermath ever since they made up and that would’ve been weird, too.

So Paulo just faced it head on, just braced himself and finally dialed the last number. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Isa picked up his call and said, “Hello?” and Paulo had to exhale to reply, “Hey, Isa, it’s me. Paulo.”

There was a pause that seemed to last forever, then, “Hi, Paulo.”

“Um. You called? I was away. Back in Córdoba.”

“Yeah, just. Just want to talk to you.”

“Isa,” Paulo said. He just. He had _so many things_ he wanted to say to Isa but never had the chance to. “Isa, I just –“

“Paulo,” she interrupted. “Me first, okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered.

“I heard about your move,” she started hesitantly. “Um. Congrats on that. It’s huge. And you deserve it, yeah? I know you’ve worked really hard and now you’re going to make it big and just. Yeah. You deserve this.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said. He bit on his bottom lip so he wouldn’t cry.

“And um. I just want to say that…I’m sorry. For being so harsh on you. I know you’re an amazing person, Paulo, I’ve never once doubted that. I just, I know you were drunk and everything but. But it doesn’t change the fact that…that it happened. And I, you know, I couldn’t. I know, I still know and I still believe that you’re a good person, but just. Yeah.”

“Isa,” Paulo whispered. “Isa, I’m so, so sorry. I should never have done it and I still haven’t forgiven myself. Being drunk wasn’t an excuse. Isa. I loved you. I really, really did and I really cared about you, please, please believe me.”

“I do, yeah,” she whispered, and she sounded like she was crying, and Paulo felt _horrible_. “I believe you. Really.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s just,” she took a deep breath. “Just leave it behind us, okay? I’m trying, you know. To move past it. Because you and I, Paulo, we’re still young. We still have our entire lives ahead of us. It’s just. Not worth it to keep holding on to this, yeah? Paulo?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. Isa was just. Isa was the most amazing girl Paulo had ever known. “You…you’re doing good?”

“As good as I can,” Isa chuckled. “Yeah, just, you know. Life is overwhelming.”

“I’m so glad you called,” Paulo said. “I didn’t know if…you know. If I could call you. I didn’t want to just leave this hanging, you know? I just. Hate myself so much for what happened.”

“Don’t,” Isa said softly. “Paulo. I know I should probably hate you, but. But yeah. I can’t. I just want you to be happy, yeah? And maybe one day, you’ll find someone else you love, and he or she can make you happy. But for now. Just forget it, okay? It happened. I’m trying to move on. You should, too.”

“Yeah,” Paulo sobbed, he was _sobbing_ and he didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed because it was _Isabella_. “Isa, is this going to be the last time we talk to each other?”

“Nah,” Isa said, and Paulo could _see_ her smiling when he closed his eyes. “We’ll talk again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “But I mean, like. You probably want to stay away from me or whatever.”

“I don’t know, man, what’s the protocol for these things?” she laughed, and then sighed sadly. “Paulo, look. It still hurts, yeah, sure. But I always want to know how you’re doing, okay? You know me. You know I’ll never do anything I don’t want to. So when I say you can call me when you feel like talking to someone. You believe me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “Isa. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah,” Isa echoed. “Sure. I just. I know we had something special. It’s just a pity it had to end this way. But you’re an incredible footballer and you’re going to go places, yeah, Paulo?”

“Mmhmm,” Paulo mumbled. “Isa –“

“Stop thanking me, ‘kay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“So…we’ll talk soon, yeah?”

“Of course. Bye, Isa.”

The both of them just sat there quietly on either end of the line, just. Savouring what was left of their little bubble. And then with a soft, characteristically adorable laugh, Isa finally hung up.

Paulo lay down on his couch and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if this week was going to be a high or a low. But there was one thing he knew – right then, after talking to Isa, he was well and truly okay. More okay than he remembered being before.

He didn’t move from the couch for the rest of the day, afraid that he would disturb the shield of peace and okayness that seemed to only temporarily surround him. Paulo had never been good at moving forward. But this time, he was pretty sure he’d already taken the first step (or rather, Isa had helped him take the first step); and all he had to do was (ironically, given that he was being a couch bum) keep moving.

\------

Alvaro met up with Isco when him and Mia visited Alvaro’s family in Madrid.

Alvaro missed him and all his nonsense, really. He missed Isco bossing him around and telling him what to do. He missed Isco jabbering away in his ear even though he didn’t even know for sure Alvaro was listening. He missed Isco _telling him what to do_.

“Hey, quick question,” Alvaro said as they sat in that diner so popularly frequented by the various Spanish youth teams and to which he’d brought Paulo all those years ago. “Do you think it’s easier being in a relationship with someone on the same team or on a different team?”

Isco stared at him. He just. Stared at Alvaro. A few moments later, he said, “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

Alvaro shrugged. “Asking for a friend.”

“Well,” Isco said. He looked vaguely shocked at Alvaro’s question. And dismissive of Alvaro’s lame attempt to deflect the true reason. “I’d say, being in a relationship itself seems like the most impossible thing on the planet.”

“You mean like,” Alvaro gestured vaguely. “Relationships in general? Or…in football?”

“Have you ever _seen_ me in a relationship? Those things last like, five weeks, tops. How do people even do that? How do _you_ do that?”

“Isco. It’s a serious question.”

“And you have a serious girlfriend.”

Alvaro paused. He _did_ have a serious girlfriend. “You know what, forget it.”

They ate their tapas in silence, Isco crunching obliviously loudly and Alvaro just. Thinking.

“Is this about Paulo?” Isco suddenly asked. While his mouth was still full, even. Man, Alvaro never could understand how laid-back Isco could be about everything. Alvaro shrugged, and Isco continued, “Look. It’s been like, what, twelve thousand years. And you’re still hung up on him. That must mean something, don’t you think?”

“That’s not an answer to the question I asked,” Alvaro said. He diverted his gaze down to his plate. That wasn’t the point. Well, it _was_ , but. It wasn’t the point he wanted to dwell on. He wanted Isco to reassure him that it was the right decision to leave everything as it was.

Isco sighed. He swallowed his food and put his fork down. “You know about this whole. Homosexuality in football thing. It’s lame, honestly, I know, but. But it could be fucking life-changing if you, like, came out. Doesn’t matter if he’s on the same team or a different one.”

“I know, but,” Alvaro said. “Theoretically?”

“Well. Relationship-wise, obviously it’d be better if you were in the same team. You know, peace and wanting the same thing and all that cheesy shit. But football-wise, it’d be super fucking obvious. Yeah, sure, you could be attached by the hip 24/7, but people are gonna talk. And dude, you don’t want that. No talking. Silence. It’s the best.”

Alvaro sighed. “If only this wasn’t a taboo. You know, being a gay footballer.”

“Are you?”

“You know I can’t answer that. I just want him to be safe.”

“What if you two just. Dated secretly?”

“You think that’d work?”

Isco took a slow sip of iced tea. “Franco,” he pointed out, just that single word, that single name that never failed to shower a myriad of possibilities on Alvaro.

Alvaro sighed again. “It’s different. Paulo and Franco. It’s different from Paulo and me.”

“I know,” Isco said thoughtfully. “Look, I know I’m always bossing you around but. This time I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you what to do about this. It’s your life and it’s up to you how you want to live it. I have an idea what would make you happier, but. ‘Happy’ is sorta subjective, don’t you think? If I tell you what to do and it ends up ruining your life, I’ll have that hanging over my head until I die, okay, and I don’t want that.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, finally relenting. “Yeah, hey. Thanks.”

“Nah,” Isco smiled. “Honestly, though. You two are like, the best. You and Paulo. Relationship goals, and I don’t mean that ironically.”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro burst into laughter. “When did you become so cheesy?”

Isco beamed at him like he was proud he’d managed to cheer Alvaro up. Alvaro didn’t know if he’d meant it that him and Paulo were relationship goals, but he chose to believe he did. “C’mon, I’m not heartless, okay,” Isco said.

“You _say_ that,” Alvaro said.

“Fuck off,” it was Isco’s turn to say. “Look, I’m not saying I’m washing my hands off you two, okay. I’m just saying. You know best. And I’m always here if you want to ask me dumb and obvious questions like you just did.”

Alvaro smiled, half frustrated at life and half relieved that he had Isco to dump everything on. He flicked a pea at Isco and had a revenge crouton immediately ricochet off his own cheek.

They sat there slowly stuffing themselves with food and just talking fucking nonsense, and at the end of the day he returned home to Mia and he remembered why he’d chosen this path the instant he saw her sitting on their bed and smiling.

Because it was the safe path. This was the safe path for him and Paulo and even Mia. And Alvaro was reminded of that every time he saw Mia’s amazing, angelic smile, like she was Alvaro’s protector, in the same way that Alvaro tried to be all of theirs.

So he snuggled into bed next to Mia and asked her about her day, which she spent sightseeing with Alvaro’s parents and Marta. And he heard Paulo’s voice in his head; Paulo’s voice saying _‘Alvaro, don’t turn your life upside down for me,’_ and he remembered once again that he didn’t have to.

He didn’t have to because their lives were fine. He was going to have Paulo consistently in his life in Juventus and he had Mia, who had never once failed to give Alvaro strength. He was playing great football for the biggest club in Italy. His life was basically how everyone, how his family, would have pictured it to be.

\------

Paulo eventually moved out of Alvaro’s guestroom after he found his own apartment. It had two rooms because Paulo decided that one big house in Palermo was enough for his family. Alvaro helped him get all his garbage out of storage and into his apartment. He even stayed to unpack.

Moving into his own apartment was a coming-of-age of sorts for Paulo. Like he was graduating from being Alvaro’s little pet bird to being his own person. Like he was learning to be more independent from Alvaro, because even though they were finally in the same fucking team, it didn’t mean that Paulo was suddenly allowed to claim Alvaro as his own every single minute.

Alvaro certainly didn’t seem to mind that, though. Paulo’s apartment was a ten-minute walk from his and he took that short walk every time he could, using unpacking as the excuse. Sometimes he brought Mia. Other times he brought coffee. Most of the time, he only brought himself.

It seemed surreal. Paulo couldn’t quite put it all together yet. All those years of only hearing Alvaro’s voice over the phone or on Skype weren’t this easily forgotten. When the time first came for him to drop down by Vinovo for a team meeting, Paulo started heading over himself, walking around the corner where his car was parked, until Alvaro ambushed him outside his apartment, yelling about why Paulo hadn't made the journey down with him. Then Paulo walked by Alvaro’s side, smiling as Alvaro jabbered away about Juve.

“How you feeling, Pau?” he finally stopped to ask.

“Good, yeah,” Paulo smiled. “Really excited. Just. Alvaro. I can't believe this is real.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro reflected Paulo’s smile. “Me, too.”

“Just, you know,” Paulo shrugged. “Thinking about the day we first met. The first time I’d flown anywhere without my parents and I flew to fucking Spain. And I was tired as fuck but you were being all nice and I felt bad.”

“Yeah, you were all like, _it’s 8.30 in the morning in Argentina,_ ” Alvaro said in his characteristic impression of Paulo’s voice, jabbing his finger at his watch. “And you know, I didn’t even want to be part of that exchange.”

Paulo laughed. “Yeah. Could tell.”

“I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do. I was like, okay, let me just get this over and fucking done with. And then. And then I met you.”

Paulo smiled again, this time at the ground. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Fucking hell, Pau, if I had to go back and do that fucking exchange a million more times, I would. And if I were given a choice, I’d still choose to do it a million times. If it meant I got you every single time.”

“Alvi, stop it,” Paulo said softly.

“Hey,” Alvaro said. He nudged Paulo gently in the ribs. “This is kinda like that, huh? Us going to training together again.”

“It is,” Paulo turned and grinned at him. “Yeah, it is.”

Alvaro suddenly stopped in his tracks even though the car was still a distance away, grabbing Paulo’s elbow to hold him back. He tugged until Paulo and him were standing feet-to-feet, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo. “Paulo,” he whispered against the side of Paulo’s head.

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered back.

“I’m so glad I have you.”

“Me, too.”

“This…this is like, our second chance, yeah?” Alvaro asked, and he sounded a little frantic. “Our first chance. It didn’t work out because we were young and you were in Argentina and I was in Spain and we couldn’t just move to any fucking club we wanted, but now, now we’ve found our way back to each other again and we’re going to do this right, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. He closed his eyes. Alvaro smelled like how Paulo had always remembered. “We’re going to kick ass.”

“You’re the best,” Alvaro said affectionately.

“No, you are,” Paulo chuckled. He pulled out of the hug. “C’mon. We’re going to be late. I can’t be late, everyone will think I’m the late guy for as long as I’m here.”

Alvaro spent the entire journey there describing to Paulo how he was going to ‘take care of’ anyone on the team who ever dared to bully Paulo.

\------

Paulo fit into the team seamlessly. It was partly because everyone was just so friendly, but mostly because Alvaro was there, and he was the life of every conversation. It was amazing how different this Alvaro was from the grumpy one Paulo had met all those years ago.

Alvaro had tried to charm the Vinovo staff into moving his locker next to Paulo’s, but he’d failed. He always sat there in his locker after training sending glances over at Paulo, like he was constantly watching to see that Paulo was okay. Paulo would smile at him, because how could he not?

Paulo’s locker was right smack in the middle of all the newbies’, though, and that made it easier for him. They were all like, as clueless as he was, honestly. He was pretty sure he heard Mario ask someone where the restrooms were. On their _third training_.

And Simone. Simone sat down in his locker next to Paulo’s one day and asked Paulo, “Why’s Morata always giving you weird stares?”

Paulo stared at him. “They're not weird. And he's not staring.”

Simone stuck his chin out pointedly towards Alvaro. Paulo turned and saw Alvaro just. Pretending to tie his shoes but like, so fucking obviously staring at Paulo and Simone with his eyes rolled up so high Paulo could barely see the browns any longer.

Paulo snapped his fingers in Alvaro’s direction. “Alvi,” he said urgently.

Alvaro snapped awake. “What?”

“I'm alright,” Paulo said. He smiled. Alvaro relaxed. Paulo turned back to Simone. “Maybe he wants to ask us out for lunch but he’s too shy because we’re too cool.”

Simone burst into laughter. “What the fuck. Since when is he _shy?_ He thinks he's like, the coolest dude on the planet.”

And Simone would know, because he’d taken Paulo’s place in Alvaro’s guestroom while he searched for his own apartment. Alvaro was slowly becoming closer to him; and so was Paulo, by extension. Paulo went over to sit beside Alvaro. “Hey. Wanna hang out?” he asked. “Simo and you and me.”

“I'm meeting Mia,” Alvaro said.

“She can hang out with us, too.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked, and he looked _delighted_. “Okay. I'll tell her.”

The three of them met Mia at a quiet diner, where they had lunch and listened to her tell them all about her new job as a designer that meant she had the opportunity to travel. And Alvaro couldn’t stop gazing over proudly at her, smiling and nodding and at one point taking her hand and holding it tightly, refusing to let go.

And Paulo wondered when he would find someone who would look at him the way Alvaro looked at Mia.

Simone woke Paulo from his daze by saying to him, “Geez, I feel like we should be holding hands, too.”

“Fuck off, Simo,” Alvaro said. “Don't hold his hand or I’ll break your fingers.”

“Okay, okay, dude,” Simone said. He looked simply _appalled_ at Alvaro’s sudden defensiveness. “Just kidding.”

Paulo turned to Alvaro and saw Alvaro dip his head towards his plate, the smile on his face replaced by a faint frown. His hand was no longer in Mia’s.

After lunch the four of them headed to Alvaro’s apartment to play FIFA – yes, Mia played FIFA, too, and she was pretty great at it. She and Alvaro made a formidable team. They were basically perfect for each other.

That thought hit Paulo almost simultaneously with another one – Paulo was fucking lonely.

Sure, he had Alvaro now. But at the same time, he didn’t. Alvaro spent a huge chunk of his time with his roommate Simone and his girlfriend Mia. He didn’t have Isa. He didn’t have Franco Vazquez, fuck buddy from Palermo. He didn’t have anyone.

He stood in the kitchen doorway watching Alvaro, Simone, and Mia fight over who got to play as Juve next. He felt a sudden suffocation, a sense of dread starting to eat him from inside.

Paulo walked over to the trio, who had decided that Alvaro and Mia could play as Juve next. “Hey,” he said softly, afraid that his voice would shake or do something pathetic. “Um. I think I’ll head back. Thanks for today.”

“Oh, okay,” Mia said. She was the only one who reacted. “You sure you don’t wanna stay and kick our asses?”

Paulo smiled. Mia was an amazing girl. It was no wonder Alvaro loved her as much as he did. “Nah, you guys go ahead. See you soon, yeah?”

And then he hurried out the front door before his face could do anything silly. But Paulo only managed to take like, fifteen steps before a familiar thumping sound caught up with him.

“Pau, hey, “Alvaro called as he slowed to a walk next to Paulo. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Paulo shrugged. “Just a little tired.”

“C’mon. Talk to me.”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Was it Simo? Did he do something? I swear, I’ll –“

“No, Alvi, it wasn’t Simo.”

Alvaro went silent. He walked with Paulo all the way to his apartment, but didn’t say anything when Paulo continued walking past his front stoop. He just. He just walked quietly by Paulo’s side, like he thought it would help to be there.

He was right. It helped.

“It’s lonely being at the top,” Alvaro finally said, breaking the almost half-hour-long comfortable silence.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered.

“You know you can hang out with me, Pau,” Alvaro said. He sounded a little sad. “Paulo. You know that. _You know that_. Right?”

“I know,” Paulo whispered again, because he felt like if he spoke any louder he would have a complete breakdown right in the middle of the street. “Alvi. What if I screw everything up?”

“You won’t, Paulo, don’t be like this,” Alvaro said softly. “I know how much you want to be here. I felt lonely, too, when I came last year. It sort of distorts everything. But everyone’s just. They’re just so nice. This is just the beginning, Pau, training has barely even started. And I know how good you are. You can’t say things like this about yourself, okay? It’s going to get better. I promise.”

“I know, yeah,” Paulo said. Because he did. It was just, his mind and his heart thought different things. “Maybe, you know. Maybe I just need some time. Just. Away from everything. Maybe I just need to play football again.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro agreed. He draped his arm around Paulo and pulled Paulo close, taking off his cap and putting it on Paulo’s head. He pulled it down to cover Paulo’s almost tear-stained face. “C’mon, let’s go home, yeah? Get a nice long sleep. And then tomorrow, I’ll trash you using Juve.”

Paulo laughed. “You sure about that?”

“Very,” Alvaro said proudly.

“Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“Mia’s a great girl,” Paulo said. “Just. She’s really amazing.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered thoughtfully. “Yeah. I know.”

Alvaro brought Paulo back to his apartment and waited until Paulo was done showering. He watched Paulo get into bed. He tucked Paulo into bed.

He didn’t leave until Paulo was asleep, temporarily freed from the demons in his mind.


	24. I Won't Let Go, I'll Be Your Lifeline Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Cold Water by Major Lazer ft. Justin Bieber and MØ.

Paulo felt a hundred fold better once he got into the thick of things.

It was certainly different in Turin than it was in Palermo. It was much more intense but Paulo was thoroughly enjoying it, throwing himself into the rhythm and pushing himself to limits he never knew he could reach. The ability to distract himself from reality had always been Paulo’s best trait.

Alvaro seemed really proud to see Paulo putting his heart into every training session. Mia had gone to Milan for five days and Alvaro seemed to have all the time in the world. He had Paulo and Simone go over to play FIFA but they were an odd number so they got Paul along, too, because how could there be FIFA without Paul around? Anyway, Alvaro got so lonely that he refused to let any of them go back home even though Simone had gotten his own apartment and was in the process of moving out.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

Alvaro and Paulo had been put on opposing teams for practice. They were right in their groove again, re-enacting their training shenanigans of six years past and dominating the entire fucking game.

After scoring his, like, seventh goal or whatever, Paulo turned around to gloat at Alvaro – only to find that he wasn't there.

Paulo stopped in his tracks. The ball bounced off his foot, Paul’s futile attempt at a pass. Paulo turned an entire round but couldn't fucking _find_ Alvaro. It was like he’d suddenly evaporated.

“Where's Alvaro?” he called to Paul.

Paul looked vaguely confused, like he’d only just realised Alvaro was missing. “He's not even on our team,” he yelled back.

“I know, but where is he?”

“He’s hurt,” someone else – Claudio? – yelled.

And then Paulo spotted Alvaro. Sitting on the ground behind one of the extra goalposts and surrounded by two medics. There were two more running towards their little crowd.

And Paulo just. He just dropped everything and ran. He ran, oblivious to everyone yelling at him to stay where he was, and jumped over the stray balls and bags and barged through the hovering medics and landed on his knees next to Alvaro.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered before Paulo could muster a single word. Like in the sea of people poking and prodding at him, all Alvaro noticed was that Paulo was there.

“What happened?” Paulo asked.

“I don't know,” Alvaro said, and his hands were shaking so hard and frantically fumbling around to find something to hold on to. Paulo took them both in his and gave them a squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. He held Alvaro’s hands close to his chest. “It's okay. You're going to be okay. I've got you. You're okay.”

Alvaro gave a soft little sob and squeezed Paulo’s hands. “Pau,” he whispered. “Hey. You should get back.”

“No.”

“Yes. Boss is just. He's just. Staring at us.”

Paulo wasn't sure if he wanted to turn around to see that. He just clutched at Alvaro’s nervous hands and kept his eyes on Alvaro. Alvaro was beautiful. Even when he was hurt and scared and vulnerable, Alvaro was beautiful.

“Paul’s coming,” Alvaro whispered, like he’d taken it upon himself to be Paulo’s informant about what was going on behind him.

“Dybi, you gotta come back,” Paul said. “Allegri wants to carry on.”

“Just go on then,” Paulo said.

“C’mon, everyone's waiting.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. “Go.”

“No,” Paulo said firmly, because God help him, even if he was instantly kicked off the Juventus team before he even got to play his first game, Paulo just _wouldn't_ leave Alvaro. He _couldn't._ Not until he was sure Alvaro was _okay._

Paulo sat down on the grass. He just. Planted his butt right down and he slid his hand into Alvaro’s and he didn't say another word.

Paul and Alvaro gave a coordinated sigh. Alvaro gave Paul a helpless, apologetic glance, and after a couple more seconds of staring at Paulo, Paul returned to the training match – which, in all honesty, seemed incredibly trivial now even though Paulo and Alvaro’s personal goal tickers had been in Paulo’s favour.

When a caddy came by to get Alvaro, Paulo climbed on with him. He hovered around incessantly as the medical staff gathered around Alvaro and poked different parts of his calf and asked a million questions. He charmed his way into the car when Alvaro was brought to the hospital for a scan.

Paulo was really exhausted when the day finally ended and he’d driven Alvaro back home in Alvaro’s car. He turned off the engine and sighed.

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly, reaching over and gently wrapping his hand around Paulo’s. “Thanks for following me around all day like an annoying bee.”

Paulo laughed. “I'm not sure if you're saying a nice thing.”

“I am,” Alvaro said earnestly.

“Well, what else could I possibly do if not follow you around all day like an annoying bee?” Paulo smiled. “Hurts?” he asked.

Alvaro shrugged. His gaze returned to the dashboard. “A little,” he whispered.

And Paulo was just. Suddenly at a loss about what to do. He’d seen Alvaro hurt before, of course – but he’d never once been this _close_. He’d never once found himself actually able to take care of Alvaro. And God, Paulo just wanted to plaster himself to Alvaro’s side all day and _never leave him._

“Come on,” he finally said. “I’ll piggyback you.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro gave a little chuckle. “You drink enough milk today?”

“Fuck off, I’m trying to be nice.”

Alvaro giggled softly. “Yeah,” he said, stretching his arms towards Paulo and making grabby hands. “I want a piggyback.”

So Paulo got out of the car and went over to the passenger door, bending over for Alvaro to hop on his back. He heard Alvaro gave a little laugh against the side of his head as they made their way into Alvaro’s penthouse.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Alvaro whispered, his lips softly brushing against the shaved part of Paulo’s hair.

Paulo hoped he was just _feeling_ like he was blushing, and not _actually blushing_.

He put Alvaro down on his bed and maneuvered him under his sheets. He gave Alvaro two painkillers and watched as he swallowed them. And then he said, “Well, I guess I should go.”

Alvaro waited till Paulo was at the bedroom door before saying, “Hey. Why don’t you, uh. Stay?”

“Like a sleepover?” Paulo asked with a smile.

“Exactly like a sleepover,” Alvaro grinned. He patted the space next to him. “C’mon.”

So Paulo climbed in next to Alvaro and just. Just sat there. Because there was nothing else in this world he would rather do than sit next to his Alvaro doing nothing at all. Because he could hardly believe that this, that finally being by Alvaro’s side again (and for good!) wasn’t just a dream, and instead of constantly pinching himself to see that it was real, Paulo would very much rather just sit and stare at Alvaro. Up close. Feel his presence. His calming, soothing presence.

Alvaro directed Paulo to the stack of old yearbooks lying in one of his dresser drawers. He made Paulo flip through each one of them until he managed to find Alvaro, and then Alvaro would tell him all about that particular year and all the dorks in his classes even though half the time Paulo was too busy laughing at baby Alvaro to actually listen. He told Paulo about all his encounters with the notorious secondary school bully. He told Paulo people liked to ruffle his hair, and they hated playing football with him because he always won. He told Paulo tons of things, even though nearing the end he was very noticeably struggling to stay awake but. But his mouth just wouldn't stop moving. And his voice was even more slurred when he was sleepy, and fuck. Paulo loved Alvaro.

Alvaro fell asleep clutching one of his oldest yearbooks. Paulo gently pried it out of his hands.

“Night, Pau,” Alvaro mumbled, hands grabbing ahold of Paulo’s bicep. He nuzzled his face into the fabric of Paulo’s sleeve.

And Paulo just couldn't leave. He couldn't leave even if he’d wanted to. He placed the yearbooks aside and lay down next to Alvaro. Alvaro looked angelic when he slept.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

“Hmm?” was Alvaro’s reply.

“I think that bully’s regretting not trying to be friends with you.”

His eyes remained closed, but a _huge grin_ broke out on Alvaro’s face and it warmed Paulo’s chest in an incredible way. “Yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

“Definitely,” Paulo replied. He gently pressed Alvaro’s hair back on his head, fingers softly combing. “Night, Alvi.”

Paulo fell asleep clutching Alvaro’s hands, feeling like he was in the safest place in the entire world.

\------

When Alvaro woke up again the street below was all quiet but his bedside lights were on and Paulo slept quietly in his arms. _In his arms_.

Alvaro ran his fingers through Paulo’s hair, wondering if he was real. Maybe with all the painkillers and exhaustion, he’d hallucinated a Paulo to sleep with him.

But Paulo stirred and moved his hand to gently grab the fingers of Alvaro’s free hand, and he gave a soft sigh against Alvaro’s shoulder – and Alvaro knew he was real.

He let himself revel in this, revel in the feeling of him and Paulo, pressed tightly together. Of the physical equivalent of the haunting possibility that him and Paulo could be like this every day. That he could wake up to Paulo every single day.

He planted his lips gently on Paulo’s head. He loved Paulo. But he wasn't supposed to.

He tucked Paulo’s head under his chin and sighed. If he couldn't live like this for the rest of his life, it was all he could do to live like this for the next few hours.

Alvaro clutched Paulo more tightly against his chest and saw Paulo smile in his sleep. Then he, too, closed his eyes; cherishing and remembering every breath Paulo took against the front of his shirt, every restless fidget Paulo made while he was sleeping, every flutter of his eyelids against Alvaro’s neck, every gentle murmur deep in Paulo’s throat, and every meek tightening of his fingers around Alvaro’s hand, like he wasn't quite sure if it was what he was supposed to be doing. Alvaro didn't want to forget a single moment. He could forget every other thing – hell, he could completely forget his calf was probably torn, but he would never, _ever_ forget one second of this.

\------

The next time Alvaro woke up, it was because Simone was barging into his room and yelling about needing a ride from Alvaro to the post office.

“Quick, I need to get this out by – oh fuck,” Simone said before Alvaro could even open his eyes. Then the door clicked back shut. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Alvaro pried his eyes open, wondering what Simone was so freaked out about.

Then he realised Paulo was still in his arms, sleeping soundly – Paulo had always been a sound sleeper, Alvaro remembered, and he took a second to admire Paulo’s beauty one final time – and he thought, _oh fuck_.

“Wait,” Alvaro heard Simone say from the other side of the door. He saw the door open again, in slow motion. “Wait.”

And Alvaro just. He instinctively pushed Paulo and Paulo fucking fell off the bed, waking himself up in the process. He landed on the ground on his butt with a thud.

“Are you two…” Simone, now standing in the open doorway, asked. He wiggled his pointer and middle fingers at Paulo and Alvaro. “You two…”

“No,” Alvaro said, more harshly than he’d intended. He saw Paulo sitting on the ground rubbing his butt and looking all sad and disheveled, and his heart gave a helpless flip. “Just. Just sleeping.”

“Okay,” Simone said slowly, but he still looked skeptical.

Alvaro turned to Paulo. “Tell him we were just sleeping.”

“We were just sleeping,” Paulo repeated sleepily. And reluctantly.

“Okay,” Simone said again, sounding more convinced. “C’mon. I need a ride. Urgently.”

“Uh,” Paulo said, getting himself off the floor and dusting himself off. “I guess. I should go, then.”

“No, hey,” Alvaro said. He desperately wanted Paulo to stay. After the previous night, he didn’t think he could go a second without Paulo. He frantically tried to think of a reason Paulo should stay, before coming up with, “I can’t drive, you gotta drive him.”

“Oh, okay,” Paulo said softly. “Let me just, uh. Brush my teeth.”

Then he slipped out of the room in the gap between Simone and the door frame, and Alvaro just. He felt horribly guilty, like some guilt monster was trying to eat him up from the inside. He hadn’t meant to treat Paulo that way. He hadn’t meant to make Paulo feel like he’d been used. Or that Alvaro was fucking _ashamed_ of him or whatever, because Alvaro _wasn’t_.

He kept silent as Paulo came back and helped him to the bathroom (while Simone lazed around uselessly, needless to say), and then piggybacked him down to his car. He got into the passenger seat as Paulo got into the driver’s, and Simone climbed in the back.

The ride was equally silent until Simone suddenly said, “So, um. Are you two, like,” he waved his hands vaguely in the air. “I don’t know, fucking?”

Alvaro saw Paulo’s hands grip the steering wheel more tightly. He saw Paulo’s pupils dilate and his jaw clench. And he wished, he wished he could reach over and loosen Paulo’s hands and jaw but Simone was fucking _staring_ at them and Alvaro just. He felt so helpless.

“No,” he finally said.

“But like. No one sleeps…like that. I mean, two guys. And you know, like. Mia.”

There was like, three complete minutes of silence.

“It’s a really long story,” Alvaro said.

“So you _are_ fucking,” was Simone’s reply.

“No, we’re not,” Paulo said, his first words in like, a half-hour. He gave Alvaro a quick but very evidently stony glance, like he was silently asking, _and whose fault is that?_

“We’ve always done that. Like, slept like that,” Alvaro said slowly. “We’ve known each other since we were like, fifteen and sixteen. It’s just. Our habit.”

Paulo dipped his head and Alvaro wasn’t sure if he was nodding or just expressing disappointment.

“Oh, okay,” Simone said, and he looked less suspicious and more curious. “Sixteen? That must be cool. I mean, watching each other grow up and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He nudged Paulo. “It’s pretty cool. You should've seen this one when he was fifteen.”

And _that_ managed to crack a smile out of Paulo. “Fuck you. Should've seen _you_ when you were sixteen.”

They started bickering as Simone watched from the backseat, thoroughly entertained. And then Paulo said, “Simo, did you have nice hair when you were sixteen?” and that got Simone in as well.

But Paulo avoided Alvaro’s gaze for the rest of the ride and Alvaro had a feeling he knew why.

When they were hanging around outside the post office waiting for Simone to mail his whatever, Alvaro said, “Paulo. I'm sorry about this morning.”

Paulo shrugged. “Yeah, it's. Whatever.”

“No, Pau, it's not whatever. I'm sorry. I panicked.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning,” Paulo said, affording Alvaro a brief smile.

“I'm sorry,” Alvaro grabbed Paulo’s elbow and tugged at it. He couldn't live with the thought that Paulo was upset. “Paulo.”

“I told you, it's okay,” Paulo said softly. “I get it, yeah? Always.”

Paulo always got it. Of course Paulo always got it. But it didn't do anything to soothe the low throb of doubt in Alvaro’s gut.

“We’re okay,” Paulo continued before Alvaro could say anything. He smiled when Alvaro appeared surprised. “Really. We’ll always be okay.”

Oh, Paulo was too kind and it was almost like he had the power to rip Alvaro into little tiny shreds if he just said the right words. Alvaro curled his fingers around Paulo’s wrist and gave it a soft squeeze.

“Thanks for yesterday,” he said.

Paulo’s smile grew wider. “My pleasure, Alvi.”

“I’ve literally been waiting six years to have another sleepover with you like that.”

“Yeah?” Paulo chuckled. “Me, too.”

“I mean, we did that when I came to Turin, but. It’s just different. Yeah?”

Paulo nodded, after which Alvaro grabbed his head and tucked it under his arm again, and when Paulo burst into a little fit of giggles Alvaro couldn’t help but laugh along because this was his best friend in the entire universe and all the alternate universes that possibly existed and Alvaro just. He was just so relieved that everything was okay. That it was _always going to be okay._

Because _Alvaro loved Paulo_ and he had no fucking _idea_ how to tell Paulo, if he _should_ tell Paulo, if he was _supposed_ to be feeling this way. He just. He had no idea about _anything_.

But he had to let go of Paulo because his phone suddenly started ringing in his pocket, and the number on the screen was that of the medical staff.

“It’s about my leg,” he said to Paulo, who was gazing over curiously. Alvaro was suddenly really scared. He was pretty sure he knew what the diagnosis was – but thinking it and having it confirmed to him were completely different things.

“Want me to take it?” Paulo asked kindly.

“No, just,” Alvaro whispered. He grabbed Paulo’s wrist again. “Just. Just be here.”

Paulo smiled. He used his other hand to gently grasp Alvaro’s forearm and leaned his head on Alvaro’s shoulder. “Yeah, always,” he whispered back.

Alvaro took the call and pressed the phone to his ear with a sigh. He let the guy ramble into his ear about his injury and what they needed him to do while he was ruled out. Then he was told he needed to go down to Vinovo because they had to do some movement assessment. Somewhere in between all that information, Simone came back out of the post office and, upon seeing Alvaro and Paulo by the side of the road, went and pressed his head against Alvaro’s other shoulder.

“What?” he said when Alvaro just. Just stared at him. “Paulo’s doing it. I thought it was a thing we were doing now.”

Paulo burst into laughter but Alvaro was less amused. He shook Simone off his shoulder. “I have to go to Vinovo. Wanna come along?”

“Well, I can't go anywhere without you two, so,” Simone sighed. “Yeah. Count me in.”

The car ride to Vinovo was nothing but fifteen minutes of comfortable silence. Paulo’s eyes were directed at the road but Alvaro found himself sneaking glances over at him whenever he could. He felt like he could never take his eyes off Paulo ever again. Not now, ironically, when Paulo was so close. He’d been missing this proximity for the past six years – he wasn't going to miss one more second of it.

“Stop staring at me,” Paulo said softly, and when Alvaro snapped back into reality he saw a little shy smile on Paulo’s face.

“Am not,” Alvaro retorted.

Paulo’s smile grew into a grin. “Yeah,” he said, teasing and unconvinced.

Alvaro found himself wondering how it was possible that after _six whole years_ , he _still_ found himself falling for Paulo all over again every single day, without fail.

\------

Paulo hovered around Alvaro again as he did some physical tests. He got in the way of the medical staff more than once, but they were friendly enough to let him stay. Paulo wondered if there was one rude soul in the entire Juventus corporation.

He was standing there with one hand over Alvaro’s face – well, don't ask him why, it seemed like Alvaro had some incessant need for physical reassurance – when Gigi suddenly poked his head around the door and beckoned for Paulo to go out.

Paulo left after Alvaro finally reluctantly allowed him to. He followed Gigi quietly down the empty hallway to the window at the very end of it, half curious and half _frightened_ because this was his _idol_ and _captain_ and even though they’d known each other for the most part of two months, Paulo still wasn't sure how he was supposed to act around someone he looked up to so much.

“I heard about what happened during training yesterday,” Gigi started, and Paulo was momentarily confused about what had happened during training before he remembered Alvaro’s injury. “Boss wanted to talk to you but I told him I’d do it.”

“Oh,” Paulo said softly, because his voice was fucking shaking. “Yeah, um, I was. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“I know,” Gigi said kindly. “Heard about you two being super good friends and everything. But above that, you were having training. The medical staff know best when it comes to taking care of someone who’s hurt. And you're new, Paulo, what you did won't give Allegri a very good impression of you. He said you’re doing really well in training, but this. This has to go, okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “Yeah, okay, I won't do it again. I'm sorry. For the trouble.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Gigi gave Paulo’s hair a ruffle before pointing towards the medical room Alvaro was in. “You can go back inside now. Since we’re not having training.”

Then he left with a loud laugh like he was just really amused at the entire situation. Paulo felt like he was back in 2009, being reprimanded with Alvaro for completely screwing training up. He returned to the medical room and was greeted by a smile from Alvaro.

“Done?” he asked, and Alvaro nodded. Paulo went over next to Alvaro and bent over again. “C’mon. Piggyback.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered, and he looked so _excited_ , like he was a child. He climbed eagerly on Paulo’s back.

They left Vinovo to the sound of every single medical staff they met telling them, _‘you know he can actually walk, right?’_ They giggled their way outside, where Paulo asked, “Hey, how fast do you think I can go with you on my back?”

“Why don't we find out?” was Alvaro’s reply.

So Paulo started running, he ran in a straight line towards Alvaro’s car before swerving suddenly to the side, causing Alvaro to scream.

“You're pretty fast,” Alvaro yelled.

“Yeah?” Paulo yelled back, panting slightly. He slowed down. “Practice for when we’re older and you can't walk because you're _old_ and I have to _carry you around_.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro laughed. “C’mon. Go faster.”

Paulo started running again, this time to the sound of Alvaro constantly yelling loudly at him to go faster. Each time Paulo panted that he couldn't do it anymore, Alvaro would insist that he could. And Paulo could. He _could_.

Eventually they were interrupted by Simone, who rolled down the car window and shouted, “You two are fucking weirdos!”

Paulo and Alvaro burst into simultaneous laughter. Paulo sat down on the ground and put Alvaro down behind him as he tried to catch his breath.

“Not too shabby, Dybala,” Alvaro beamed.

“You bet.”

There was a short silence, before, “We _are_ weird, aren’t we?”

“The _weirdest,_ ” Paulo agreed.

“Come on, let’s go,” Alvaro said. He stood up by himself and gave his hand to Paulo. He was still smiling. The smile hadn't disappeared from his face since the post office and Paulo was just. He was just so _happy_ to see Alvaro that way.

Paulo walked slowly next to Alvaro as he hobbled his way to the car. He was never leaving Alvaro’s side. He was never going to let Alvaro go. Alvaro was his favourite weirdo in the entire world.

\------

Paulo scored on his competitive debut for Juventus, the Supercoppa in Shanghai.

Alvaro was insanely proud. He couldn't even begin to describe that feeling in his chest, like someone had put a piece of warm metal in there and it was currently bleeding warmth all throughout his body. And his cheeks, man, they hurt like hell from all the smiling he was doing.

He was brought to the locker room when the celebrations ended, walking slowly with one crutch because he wasn't supposed to be moving his leg around so much.

And the first thing he saw was Paulo, holding the trophy in his hands, waiting eagerly near the door for Alvaro, completely oblivious to the fact that his teammates had practically formed an impatient line behind him to hold the trophy.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered when Alvaro stepped through the door, his voice the only thing Alvaro could hear in all the commotion.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered back. He let his crutch fall to the floor with a loud clatter as he wrapped his arms around Paulo, trophy and all. “I'm so, so, so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said. Alvaro felt him smile against the crook of his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “You were so great. So great, Paulo.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said. He lifted his head to smile at Alvaro and Alvaro just. His head started spinning.

And then Paul came over and gently nudged the both of them apart. “C’mon. We wanna hold it, too. Stop acting like little lovebirds.”

The comment completely flew over Alvaro’s head. He held Paulo by his shoulders and gently pushed him towards Paul. “Here, you can have it.”

Paul burst into laughter. “Not _him._ Just the trophy. You two can continue being fucking Siamese twins or whatever.”

Paulo handed over the trophy reluctantly. “He doesn’t wanna hold me,” he said sadly to Alvaro.

“I’ll hold you,” Alvaro offered. “You’re my trophy tonight.”

“Yeah?” Paulo laughed. “Fuck off. Cheesy bastard.”

“I’m gonna fall over if you don’t let me hold you.”

“Fine, fine,” Paulo said teasingly. He picked Alvaro’s crutch up and brought him to sit down.

“You did great, yeah?” Alvaro said once they were settled. Paulo smiled at him again. “Believe me, you really, really did. It all falls into place. Your words to me.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, contented. He gently rested his head on Alvaro’s shoulder as he watched the room celebrate. “It does.”


	25. Everything Is Fine When Your Head's Resting Next To Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Fire And The Flood by Vance Joy.

The first time Paulo played with Alvaro – it was amazing. It was their second game of the season and Alvaro had come in on the hour, and when Paulo saw him standing by the side waiting to get in he felt this irrepressible pride in his chest. He just. He still thought it was all just a dream. Sure, he’d imagined this day thousands of times – but he’d never once truly believed that it would _really happen_. And now, it _was_.

When Alvaro came in Paulo just. Half wanted to go over and hug him tight and stick to him for the next thirty minutes but. But he couldn’t, so instead he just beamed at Alvaro from where he was and received an equally blinding smile right back.

When there was a break in play Paulo went over to Alvaro’s side and said, “Pinch me.”

“What?” Alvaro asked. He was all sweaty and his hair was a mess and he looked so confused and. And Paulo loved him.

“Pinch me so I know this is real.”

The puzzled look on Alvaro’s face morphed into a big smile. “Only if you promise to pinch me back.”

Paulo reached over and grabbed an ounce of Alvaro’s flesh in between his thumb and forefinger, twisting gently. Alvaro did the same.

“It’s not a dream,” they said in unison, and then dissolved into giggles.

“C’mon, idiot,” Alvaro gave Paulo’s shoulder a gentle punch. “Focus or I’ll pinch you harder.”

Paulo smiled. He ran back to his position and continued, keeping an eye on Alvaro whenever he could. But even if he wasn’t looking at Alvaro, he knew where Alvaro was and what he was going to do. He'd watched enough of Alvaro's matches to do at least that.

Paulo scored but Juve lost eventually.

Him and Alvaro sat side by side in the away locker room (Alvaro had finally managed to charm his way to becoming Paulo’s neighbour whenever they played away) silently packing their bags. The entire room was quiet, really. It didn’t seem very plausible that Juve would lose their first two games. Paulo almost thought again that it was still a dream. When he’d imagined himself playing for Juve, he certainly did not imagine not winning their first two games.

It seemed like an extremely anticlimactic end to all the excitement Paulo had felt earlier. Paulo sighed and leaned back into his locker.

He didn't understand. He just couldn't. He played his heart out – fuck, he could even nearly say he left his heart out on the pitch. He could tell everyone around him had done the same. But it just wasn't enough. Paulo knew things like these were slippery slopes. He’d been there with Palermo and they had barely made it out.

“It’s gonna get better,” Alvaro said softly but firmly, like he was a hundred percent sure it was what Paulo needed to hear.

“It’s amazing,” Paulo whispered. Alvaro turned to him curiously. “Playing with you.”

Alvaro smiled, more hopeful than he was sad. “It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, Paulo.”

Paulo found his hand floating over to Alvaro’s, wrapping itself hesitantly around it. Alvaro’s smile grew and it just. It made Paulo so _brave_.

“Hey, Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

Paulo grabbed his worn jersey from behind him. “I, uh. Know this is kinda lame, but. Wanna switch?”

Alvaro’s smile turned into this _huge grin_ and Paulo wasn’t sure if his face was gonna fucking split into two or whatever, but Alvaro looked so fucking _delighted_ and it made Paulo’s heart soar. Alvaro reached for his own jersey and handed it to Paulo. “Of course, Pau. You’re lame but you’re still my best friend.”

“Fuck off,” Paulo punched him lightly.

“Never,” Alvaro said, wrapping an arm around Paulo and tucking Paulo in his shoulder.

“This is so great,” Paulo whispered.

“You’re the best.”

“You stole my nine.”

“Hey, I was here first.”

“I don’t care, you stole my nine.”

“Fuck off,” it was Alvaro’s turn to say, laughing.

And Paulo was just teasing. The fact that they no longer had the same jersey number was so trivial compared to the _reason why_ – they were finally _on the same team_. Paulo felt like no matter how many times he repeated it to himself, it would still be as surreal.

\------

When Juve began to slowly stutter upwards towards October, Paulo finally saw some hope.

“You were right, yeah?” he told Alvaro one day as they were heading back inside after training. “It gets better.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He appeared distracted. He’d seemed distracted for a couple of weeks, Paulo realised. “I guess.”

“You alright?”

Alvaro didn't respond.

“Alvi,” Paulo urged.

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alvaro said. “Just, you know. Getting used to it again.”

“Okay,” Paulo said. Maybe Alvaro was just tired. He’d only been playing for three weeks ever since he’d fully recovered, after all. Paulo slid his arm around Alvaro’s waist, anyway. “You wanna hang out tonight?”

Alvaro smiled. He wrapped his arm around Paulo’s neck and gently squeezed Paulo against him. “I'm with Mia tonight.”

“Yeah? She's back?”

“Mmhmm. Two days.”

“You miss her?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He shrugged. “It’s her job.”

“Have fun,” Paulo smiled. He couldn't help but be encouraging when it came to Alvaro and Mia. It was obvious Alvaro loved her to bits, even though he wasn't so big on the fact that her new job required her to travel. Plus, Alvaro had matured so much since his teenage days. He didn’t seem to be that clingy idiot who couldn’t deal with long-distance relationships any longer. Well – he was _still_ a bit of a clingy idiot, but. Not as much, definitely.

“You can join us, if you like.”

Paulo shook his head. “It's your night.”

Alvaro smiled back at him. “Just call me if you wanna come over, yeah?”

Paulo pressed his head tightly against Alvaro’s shoulder, but it was only for a moment before he felt a gentle hand pry him and Alvaro apart.

Paul squeezed his way in between them, casually draping his arms around both their shoulders. “Look,” he said softly. “No idea what you guys are up to, but everyone’s staring at you two. So, yeah. You know. Just thought you should know.”

“Um, yeah,” Paulo cleared his throat. He suddenly felt like he was burning. He could _feel_ all the gazing everyone was doing. “Okay.”

“C’mon, c’mon, act normal,” Paul said. Paulo wondered why he was being so kind. “So. You guys like, together, or what?”

“No,” Paulo said slowly. Alvaro looked a little uncomfortable, so Paulo gave him a small smile.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “I mean. Yeah, we’re not.”

Paul gave a little chuckle. “It’s ‘kay, you can tell me.”

“We’re really not,” Paulo said. “Haven’t you met Mia?”

Paul gave a little smile. He ruffled Paulo’s hair. “Well, just don’t get into trouble with Allegri again, yeah?”

Paulo nodded. Once they were safely in the empty locker room, Paul let go of them and went on with his own business.

“Why does everyone think we’re together?” Paulo wondered out loud, lightheartedly. It was suddenly tense between him and Alvaro and he wanted to lighten the mood.

But Alvaro had other ideas. “You got into trouble with Allegri?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” Paulo said. He turned to Alvaro and saw him just. Just gazing sadly over at Paulo. He moved his hand to place on Paulo’s knee but Paulo shifted before he could do so. “Not really, not with Allegri,” Paulo relented.

“What happened?”

Paulo sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. He shifted closer to Paulo so their thighs were touching. “C’mon.”

Paulo shook his head. “It’s just. That day. When you got injured and Allegri wanted to continue but I wouldn’t go back. He got Gigi to come talk to me. That’s all.”

“Yeah? That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“Paulo.”

“What?” Paulo said. “It’s nothing.”

There was a short silence from Alvaro, then softly, “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me, okay?”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Paulo repeated, because he _wasn’t_ , and if he were made to choose a thousand times between staying with Alvaro and going back to training, he would choose to stay with Alvaro a thousand times. Even if it meant he got into trouble for the other nine hundred and ninety nine times.

Alvaro sighed. His gaze chased after Paulo’s until they locked. “We’re not supposed to turn our lives upside down for each other,” he said calmly. “Remember?”

Paulo nodded. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Alvaro’s. He just _couldn’t_ , even though Alvaro’s eyes were so beautiful they were making him uncomfortable. He reached over and gave Alvaro’s hand a tight squeeze when words failed him.

Then Paul cleared his throat and gestured towards the door, through which Claudio and company were streaming in. Paul gave Paulo and Alvaro a smile. A ‘don’t worry, got your back,’ smile. Paulo wasn’t sure if Paul was getting the right idea about it all.

Paulo and Alvaro went their separate ways after practice. Alvaro went home to Mia. Paulo went home to a lonely night watching re-runs of old matches and texting Franco, who only replied once every hour.

\------

Paulo appeared surprised when Alvaro said he wanted to spend his birthday with him. But like, happy.

“I thought you were gonna spend it with Mia,” Paulo said. He was gazing dreamily at Alvaro and Alvaro was just. So touched that his best friend was so happy to spend time with him.

“My family came over and Mia’s gonna cook some huge dinner with them. They want me out of the way, so I’ll just spend the evening with them. And the day with you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said, grinning. “Okay, what do you want to do? Oh, God, I've been waiting for this day for _eternity_. And I'm not even prepared! Alvaro, tell me what you want to do.”

Alvaro laughed. “Whatever you want, Pau.”

“No, c’mon. It’s your birthday.”

“I just wanna spend time with you,” Alvaro said. “Remember? We said one day, we’d spend our birthdays with each other.”

“Aww, didn't think you'd remember that,” Paulo chuckled.

“Of course I remember,” Alvaro said.

“I’ll think of something,” Paulo promised. “Hey, you want Isco around?”

“If you were planning on a surprise, you’ve failed,” Alvaro said, causing Paulo to scoff. And blush a little. “Nah, I just want you around,” Alvaro said after a quick thought.

“Okay,” Paulo smiled. He finished lacing his boots and got up. Training was about to start and they had to focus. And, you know, try to change the minds of everyone who thought they were an item. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Looking forward to it,” Alvaro said. He gave Paulo’s shoulder a squeeze and his hair a ruffle. He’d been looking forward to it for six years.

\------

Alvaro was woken up from sleep in the wee hours of his birthday by a phone call.

“Hello?” he said groggily. He let go of Mia as she rolled away with a groan.

“Alvi,” Paulo said. “You up?”

“No?” Alvaro whined.

“Well, get up.”

“What do you want?”

“Get up, “Paulo repeated. “Come over.”

“ _Now_?” Alvaro asked in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes and opened them. The clock read 3.29.

“Yeah, come over,” Paulo said. He sounded like, fucking _wide awake_. And _excited_. A foreign emotion to _anyone_ at three in the fucking morning, but apparently not to Paulo. “C’mon. Alvi. It’s the start of your day with me.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. He sighed. How could he _not_ get out of bed at 3am for _Paulo_? “’Kay, coming.”

“See ya,” Paulo said happily, then hung up the phone.

Alvaro sighed again. He got out of bed and put on his clothes. He kissed Mia on the head but she didn’t stir, and he sent her a text saying he was out with Paulo so she’d see it first thing in the morning.

Paulo was at the door like, one millisecond after Alvaro knocked for the first time. He grabbed Alvaro’s wrists and pulled him inside. “Happy birthday,” he said excitedly, dragging Alvaro to the couch and pushing him to sit down.

“Thank you,” Alvaro beamed. “What’re you up to?”

Paulo shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to start the fun right away.”

“Yeah? What fun?”

Paulo reached for the side table and grabbed a small box wrapped nicely in white wrapping paper with a red ribbon tied across it. “Here, open this,” he said, pushing it into Alvaro’s hands.

Alvaro ripped the paper apart as Paulo watched like an eager child. He pulled out a tiny little scrapbook, made of thick textured papers of different colours carefully tied together with twine. Alvaro glanced at Paulo, who nodded at him to open it, so Alvaro did.

The first page had a photograph of the both of them on the very first day they’d met and coach had made them take photos with their partners. It was an old and grainy photograph, and a little faded, but it was the first photograph of the both of them and they were just standing awkwardly next to each other with a thigh width-sized gap between them, unsure whether to smile at the camera or not. Alvaro had this confused look on his face. Paulo was squinting at the camera and he looked really exhausted with all his straggly hair. Below the photograph was the date it was taken, handwritten by Paulo. It made Alvaro smile.

“It’s really been this long?” he whispered, fingers tracing the words.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered back, sounding in disbelief himself. “Go on.”

The next page had a photograph of the both of them on the last day of the exchange. They looked much more comfortable around each other; they had their arms around each other, for one, and they were smiling brightly at the camera.

The following page was a photo of them in June 2010, when Alvaro had convinced his family to fly to Argentina.

And the one following that had a photo of the both of them with Alvaro’s trophy and medal at the 2011 U-19 Euros.

And it continued, on and on and on, and sometimes there were real physical photos and other times there were just printed screenshots of their faces while they were Skyping – but whatever it was, as Alvaro went through the little scrapbook the dates began to be closer and closer together.

The fourth to last page had a photo of the both of them on the day Paulo moved to Turin. They were both lugging boxes and bags into Alvaro’s place and Mia had taken that photo of them just as they had been bickering about how much stuff Paulo had.

The third to last page was them with boxes and bags again, moving into Paulo’s new apartment. They looked less angry – but only because they were both sprawled out on the ground, tired from all the pushing and tugging.

The second to last page was a picture of them at training in matching pink pullovers – stolen from the Juventus website, no doubt.

And the last page was empty except for a nicely handwritten _‘23 rd October 2015’ _at the bottom.

“We can take a picture later,” Paulo said softly, and when Alvaro finally looked up he received a loving smile.

Alvaro smiled right back. He closed the book and tapped it. “Our story doesn't end here, does it? Because I’d be really sad if it did and this is just your very artistic way of telling me that.”

“Fuck off,” Paulo laughed. He picked up the box and shoved it into Alvaro’s hands again.

Inside the box were more textured papers and string.

“We’re going to have many more of these,” Paulo added in a whisper. “You can add them in yourself.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said. He just. He felt like he was going to cry. He put everything back into the box and dumped it behind him, shimmying towards Paulo and wrapping his arms tightly around him. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Paulo said into his shoulder.

“Paulo, thank you,” Alvaro breathed. His chest was contracting on itself and Alvaro felt this strange mixture of love and hurt and regret and _overwhelming love_ at once. “I’ve treated you like dirt and you're still here and. And I don't know what I’d do without you, Pau, honestly.”

“Me, neither,” Paulo said almost inaudibly.

“I'm such a fucking crappy friend, Paulo, and I don't deserve you at all after everything I’ve done to you.”

Paulo’s arms wrapped themselves firmly around Alvaro. “Let’s not talk about that, yeah?”

“Thank you so much,” Alvaro whispered.

“You’re very welcome.”

“Not just for this,” Alvaro said. “For everything. _Everything_ , yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, nodding. Alvaro’s lips brushed across Paulo’s cheek and he felt the little bump it made when Paulo smiled.

“What are we gonna do next?” Alvaro asked.

“What do you want to do?”

“Paulo, I told you I was fine with whatever.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” Paulo said. He pulled out of the hug and stood up. “Let’s, just, I don’t know. Take a walk or something.”

“Like, outside?” Alvaro asked.

“No, we’re going to walk around the house like a couple of dumb people,” Paulo said. “Outside, Alvaro.”

“It’s like, negative seventeen degrees.”

“Do you wanna or not?”

“I wanna, I wanna,” Alvaro said. He put on his coat and stole a pair of Paulo’s tiny gloves and shoved them over his fingers. Paulo did the same. Except the gloves weren’t tiny to him.

They crunched their way silently down the freezing Turin streets, hands in their pockets. The surroundings were so quiet and dark, and because of how foggy it was they could only see six feet in front of them at once. But Alvaro was pretty sure the streets were completely empty. After all, who else would be foolish enough to wander outside in this horrible weather on a weeknight?

So Alvaro took his hand out of his pocket, reached over to Paulo’s pocket, and took Paulo’s hand out of it. He slid his fingers in between Paulo’s and held on to them tightly.

Paulo didn’t respond except to give a soft gasp. The little puff of fog that escaped his lips gave him away. He didn’t let go of Alvaro’s hand, like Alvaro had half-expected him to do.

And then Alvaro was actually. He was actually _holding Paulo’s hand_ and _walking down the streets of Turin._ He was _outside_. Holding Paulo’s hand. And no one was giving a fuck. Because well, there was no one there to give a fuck, but. Alvaro got a glimpse of the life he wanted to have. The perfect life.

He turned to Paulo and saw Paulo just. Smiling at the ground in front of him. He was blushing a little, too, but Alvaro wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold. Paulo’s hand fit nicely in his, even through all the thick cotton. Alvaro could feel his heart thumping violently against his ribs, and he could hear this whooshing sound in his ears that didn’t sound like wind but more like. Like Alvaro was some degree of delirious from how much he was enjoying this. How much he was enjoying just doing something as simple as holding Paulo’s hand.

Alvaro wished he could have this every day.

He gave Paulo’s hand a squeeze and Paulo turned to him with a fond smile. And Alvaro knew, he just knew that it was what Paulo wanted as well. It broke Alvaro’s heart that on the empty Turin streets at four in the morning on a weeknight was the only time they could have it.

Alvaro let go of Paulo’s hand briefly to take off his glove. He tugged on Paulo’s until it slid off his hand.

And then he took Paulo’s hand again, skin-to-skin, and it was _warm_ , and the warmth bled up Alvaro’s arm and over his entire body, and Alvaro just. He was just so happy. Paulo’s hand was so small and soft and Alvaro had never held it in this way before and he _never wanted to let go_.

“Cold?” he whispered, the first word either of them had said since they’d left Paulo’s place.

Paulo shook his head. He tightened his fingers around Alvaro’s, like he was seeking the same warmth Alvaro was. That overwhelming, comforting, _mind-blowing_ warmth that felt both like a violent tsunami and like someone had lit a little bonfire in Alvaro’s heart at the same time.

And Alvaro just. He suddenly wanted to kiss Paulo.

He was aware that just because they were holding hands didn’t mean he could kiss Paulo. Holding hands didn’t change anything. This little indulgence didn’t suddenly give Alvaro the right to ruin Paulo’s entire life.

Alvaro suddenly felt like a teenager again, out on his first date, not knowing which base he should stop at. Scratch that – Alvaro _always_ felt like a teenager around Paulo. It wasn’t just because Paulo was the most mature twenty-one year old Alvaro had ever met. It was because it seemed like they were permanently locked in 2009, when they’d first met, and Alvaro was hit once again with a blast of nostalgia, with the fact that still, nothing had changed.

“Turn back?” Paulo finally said, a soft breathless whisper after they’d been walking for a half hour.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said.

They didn’t let go of each other’s hands. They pivoted in a small circle, Paulo in the middle and Alvaro on the outside, until they were facing the direction from which they came. Paulo started giggling softly.

“What?” Alvaro asked.

“We’re weird,” Paulo said.

“We are,” Alvaro said thoughtfully. “Hey. I’m glad we can be like, super ultra weirdos together.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Me, too.”

They walked the way back silently, Alvaro watching Paulo every step of the way. The smile on Paulo’s face never faded, and Alvaro wasn’t sure if it was just because his adorable cheeks were frozen in place. But he didn’t mind. Paulo was stunning. His eyes were sparkling and he looked so _happy_.

Alvaro held on to Paulo’s hand for a few more seconds after he’d dragged Paulo into the warmth of Paulo’s hallway. They just stood there, like. Like they had been on a date and weren't sure how they were supposed to end it. Alvaro used his thumb to draw circles on the back of Paulo’s hand.

“You gonna return me my hand now?” Paulo whispered. He was _still smiling._

Alvaro didn’t want to. He didn’t want to.

But he gave it a final little squeeze and let go of it. He took off his coat and returned Paulo’s tiny gloves.

“What now?” Alvaro asked. It had been the most mundane (and cold) start to his birthday so far but to say Alvaro hadn’t enjoyed every millisecond of it would have been an enormous lie. He thought maybe Paulo had wanted to go outside precisely so they could do that. So they could have their little snippet, their little taste, of paradise.

Paulo gave that question a brief thought, then, “Horror movie.”

“On my _birthday?_ ” Alvaro said. “You’re evil.”

“You suggest something,” Paulo retorted.

Alvaro thought about it. He really wouldn’t mind snuggling up with Paulo under a blanket again, with the excuse that they were both scared. Not one bit.

“Fine,” he grumbled, following Paulo into his room. “You know, when I thought of us spending all our time together, I never really imagined that we’d have so much trouble thinking of _what to do_.”

“I like that,” Paulo said as he settled in bed with Netflix on the screen and the remote in his hand. “It means we could do literally _anything_ with each other. Or like, nothing, because nothing’s fine, too.”

And Paulo was fucking _beaming_ at Alvaro and Alvaro was just. He just didn’t know. He felt so fucking _happy_. He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in all twenty-three years of his existence.

They eventually settled on Insidious 2, and it was still dark as fuck outside and Alvaro could not _deal_ with not physically touching Paulo so he shamelessly clung on to Paulo’s arm and used it to cover his eyes whenever needed.

“Coward,” Paulo whispered, turning his face into Alvaro’s hair. Alvaro heard him take a deep breath. He felt him gently place his lips on Alvaro’s crown. Paulo had never been one for physical declarations of affection, so. So when his lips stayed longer than needed Alvaro felt his heart quicken. He pushed his head upwards, pressing it harder against Paulo’s lips. Then he felt fucking _dizzy_ with how close he was to Paulo so he closed his eyes.

“It’s my birthday,” was all the excuse Alvaro could offer.

“Yeah,” Paulo said, in a tone that said, _‘that's a lame as fuck excuse but it's you so I'll take it.’_

“It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Paulo smiled. “It’s only been six hours into it.”

“Doesn't matter.”

Paulo went quiet. Because of the way Alvaro was clinging onto him and invading all his personal space and whatever, Paulo had no other place to put his hand other than on Alvaro’s thigh.

And Alvaro realised again that this was what he wanted.

He had a feeling this wasn't the last time he was going to realise it that day.

Alvaro fell smoothly asleep as the credits rolled. He didn't feel scared any longer.

\------

When Alvaro woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the window and the clock on Paulo’s table read something like ten am.

And Alvaro was all pressed up against Paulo, curled up against Paulo’s side as Paulo slept with his hand placed protectively on Alvaro’s head. Paulo’s mouth had fallen open just a little and the little furrow in his brow was showing, and Alvaro just. He wanted to kiss Paulo again. Paulo was a sound sleeper. Maybe he wouldn’t even know.

He removed Paulo’s hand from his head and held it tightly. Every time he held Paulo, every time he woke up next to Paulo, Alvaro was hit once again by how much he wanted this. He was hit by the want, the _desire_ , of doing this every single morning.

But he was simultaneously hit with the equally haunting possibility that it was going to be the last time.

Alvaro leaned closer and gently placed his lips on Paulo’s forehead, brushing them against the seemingly permanent furrow. He kissed Paulo’s eyelids. He took Paulo’s hand and held it tightly against his chin.

He loved Paulo.

Alvaro shut his eyes to compose himself. He leaned his head on Paulo again, slowly drifting off to a troubled nap. He was jostled awake by Paulo stirring, turning to face the ceiling, in the process pulling his hand out of Alvaro’s and slinging his arm up above his head.

Alvaro smiled. Paulo was just. He was like a baby. Alvaro was so fond and he wanted to feel this way forever.

He took out his phone and snapped a picture of himself lying on Paulo’s arm, smiling widely as Paulo slept with his mouth open next to him. It was going in his shiny new scrapbook as the photograph for 23rd October, whether Paulo liked it or not.

Alvaro fell asleep again on Paulo’s arm but was awoken by Paulo grumbling about how Alvaro had made his arm numb. Paulo sighed and whined and finally just sat up, pouting.

“It’s obviously not numb anymore,” Alvaro pointed out as Paulo crossed his arms.

Paulo narrowed his eyes at Alvaro. “Easy for you to say.”

“C’mon,” Alvaro sat up as well, and pressed himself up against Paulo’s side. “Why’re you so cranky?”

“I’m still sleepy.”

“Well, you were the one who wanted to take a fucking walk in the middle of the night.”

“But now I’m tired,” Paulo said, and _God_. He was like a child.

“C’mon,” Alvaro said again. “Stop being grumpy and give the birthday boy some love.”

Paulo burst into laughter. “What, you flirting with me?”

“If you’d like me to,” Alvaro said. He winked at Paulo and Paulo grinned, a slight pink blush on his cheeks.

“Fuck off, you’re gross.”

“Hey, I got a photo for the last page in the scrapbook,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah?” Paulo asked curiously. “I don’t even remember taking a photo. Show me.”

Alvaro took out his phone and showed the picture to Paulo – and as expected, Paulo fucking _flipped._ He reached for the phone but Alvaro pulled it just out of reach just in time, and Paulo was so _furious_ and it made Alvaro laugh and nearly give the phone away but he composed himself just enough to open the bedside drawer and dump it inside. Paulo continued fumbling, climbing on top of Alvaro and wrestling him, but to no avail.

“I fucking hate you,” Paulo said, with a grin on his face that suggested otherwise.

“Okay now, you looked really pretty,” Alvaro said, swatting Paulo’s wandering hands away. “Don’t be pissed.”

“You’re the _worst_.”

Alvaro beamed. “You know I am.”

“You know what I am?” Paulo sighed in resignation and climbed back to his own side of the bed, lying down again and closing his eyes. “I’m the prettiest. You’re right.”

Alvaro burst into laughter. Of course Paulo was the prettiest. Paulo was. He was absolutely stunning.

But Paulo was also something else.

Paulo was the love of Alvaro’s life.


	26. What Does All Our Love Amount To?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Thank you once again for all your really nice comments. I love hearing from you, please feel free to discuss anything with me regarding this story (or anything under the sun, really). You can also find me on tumblr @ incredybala. I hope that this isn't boring you guys out and I'd just like to say, the drama is slowly bubbling out the surface, just hang in there ;) In a way, this chapter starts the whole turning point. Thank you and I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Also, I'm intending to make a playlist of songs that are the soundtrack for this fic. I'll share it with you guys once I get it together :)
> 
> Title is from This Must Be My Dream by The 1975.

Alvaro got extremely upset when November came and he realised they had to be apart for Paulo’s birthday because of the international break.

He moped around for a few days, being a complete spoilsport, until Paulo said, “C’mon, stop being such a grumpy asshole, I’m not even that concerned about it.”

Alvaro stopped what he’d been doing, which was fucking stealing food from Paulo’s fridge. He placed the bag of frozen tater tots on the kitchen counter and gazed sadly over at Paulo. “You don’t want to spend your birthday with me?” he asked sadly.

Paulo paused. He got up and went over to Alvaro, picking up the bag of tater tots and popping like, thirty of them into the oven. “I do,” he said as Alvaro stood next to him watching the tater tots sizzle.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said.

“Yeah,” Paulo turned to him and shrugged. “I just. It’s not that I don’t want to. I _can’t_. Alvaro, I’ve been. I’ve been dreaming of this since I was fifteen, you know that. But, yeah. It just sucks, yeah? No point harping on it.”

“I just,” Alvaro ran a hand through his hair. “I had such a great time on mine, you know? I wanted you to have the same.”

“How about we, I don’t know,” Paulo said. “Do something before we leave?”

“Yeah?” Alvaro’s face lit up. “You wanna?”

“Of course.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“You can decide. I decided for you, remember?”

Alvaro went over to the fridge again and started pulling out all the condiments, ranch and ketchup and sour cream and whatever, all the time jabbering away about what he and Paulo could do. Paulo stood where he was and watched fondly as Alvaro poured excessive amounts of everything into like, a million bowls – which he would afterwards proceed to dump in Paulo’s sink and leave, of course – and started taste-testing them one by one with his fingers, like they were appetizers. Whatever Alvaro said practically just flew over Paulo’s head. He didn’t really care what they were going to do, as long as he could do it with Alvaro.

\------

They ended up doing the exact same thing for Paulo’s birthday as they had done for Alvaro’s.

They’d just returned from Germany after playing against Gladbach in the Champions League – another thing Paulo couldn’t _believe_ he was actually doing – and Paulo received a call from Alvaro early Friday morning. So early it was practically still Thursday night.

“What?” Paulo whined, dragging out the word.

“Can I come over?” Alvaro said.

“What for?”

“Your birthday celebration.”

“What?” Paulo asked. “You didn’t tell me it was today!”

“Uh,” Alvaro said lamely. “Surprise!”

Paulo sighed. What could he _ever_ _do_ with Alvaro? “Fine, yeah, come over.”

The doorbell rang like, three seconds after Paulo hung up the phone. Paulo ran to the door and opened it to see Alvaro standing on the stoop, a big smile on his face.

“You could’ve just told me you were outside, you know?” he said. It was really cold and he had no idea how long Alvaro had been standing there because he was pretty sure Alvaro needed more than three seconds to get from his place to Paulo’s. He quickly ushered Alvaro inside. “You could’ve like, frozen to death or whatever.”

“I was afraid you were asleep,” Alvaro said. He was still grinning.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Paulo said, dragging Alvaro’s coat off his shoulders and pushing him to the couch. He sat Alvaro down and wrapped him up nicely in a warm blanket. “So what are we gonna do?”

“I, uh,” Alvaro said. He stuck his hands out from beneath the blanket; in them was a tiny version of one of those warm pizza bags. “I brought food.”

“Food?” Paulo asked incredulously. It was like, three am.

“Yeah, I, um,” Alvaro scratched the back of his neck, like he did when he was nervous. “I made it for you.”

Paulo took the little black bag and opened it. Inside was a warm Tupperware of bright orange paella.

“I got the recipe from that diner I brought you to,” Alvaro explained. “And I, you know. Tried making it. Do you remember how it tasted?”

“Yeah, of course,” Paulo smiled. He was just. Suddenly so touched that Alvaro actually _cooked for him_. He knew Alvaro had always been some secret master chef and everything, but. He’d never actually cooked for Paulo.

“You hungry?”

Paulo nodded. The paella smelled delicious and Paulo’s stomach had started a low murmur for food. He opened the Tupperware and took the spoon Alvaro handed him.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I have some leftover at home,” Alvaro said. He was peering eagerly at Paulo. “C’mon, try it.”

Paulo took a mouthful. It tasted exactly like the one Alvaro had ordered for him in Madrid when Paulo had gone. It was piping hot and it warmed Paulo’s hungry stomach immediately.

“It’s good,” Paulo said, second spoonful already on the way to his mouth. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said. He looked a mixture of relieved and proud.

“Have some,” Paulo said, and when Alvaro shook his head, tried feeding Alvaro. “C’mon. You can’t just watch me eat.”

So Alvaro just sat there and opened his mouth to whatever Paulo wanted to feed him, as if he couldn’t hold a spoon for himself. But Paulo was glad to do it. He was just. The paella was _delicious_ and it brought back so many memories, made Paulo relive so many emotions just like the ones he’d had when he sat across Alvaro that day in 2009 in the Madrid diner.

They sat there quietly after the Tupperware was emptied. When Paulo leaned back after placing everything on the coffee table, he saw Alvaro just. Just staring at him. Paulo offered a smile.

“You like it?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “It, you know. Takes me back.”

Alvaro smiled. “I have some more at home, if you want.”

“Some other day, yeah. Thanks, Alvi.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro looked down at his fidgeting fingers. “Uh, so. What do you wanna do?”

“Do you have anything in mind?” Paulo asked. Because Alvaro looked like he did. He looked like he wanted to ask Paulo something, but didn’t dare to. “Hey. Alvi. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Do you wanna, uh,” Alvaro shrugged. “Walk? Outside?”

Paulo agreed, somewhat curious about why Alvaro had been so nervous about asking him that. He put on his coat and gloves and watched Alvaro do the same, taking the same pair of gloves he had the previous time even though they were very evidently too fucking small for his huge monstrous hands.

They’d barely taken three steps down the street when Alvaro reached over and took Paulo’s hand.

And Paulo knew immediately why Alvaro had been so hesitant. He gave Alvaro’s hand a squeeze. Alvaro had no need to be scared that Paulo would say no. He had no need to be worried about Paulo rejecting him. Because Paulo would _never_. In fact, Paulo felt this. This incredible floaty feeling when he realised that Alvaro _wanted to hold his hand_. Alvaro wanted to do it _again_. Actually, he even began to believe that Alvaro went all the way over to Paulo’s house not to give Paulo the paella but actually just so he could do _this_.

The streets were almost eerily silent. It wasn’t as foggy as it had been on Alvaro’s birthday, but it was colder and wetter. Paulo pressed himself close to Alvaro’s side for warmth. Perhaps times like these only came twice a year and lasted an hour, and perhaps it was only a play pretend world which only existed if they stepped through Paulo’s door at four in the morning, but Paulo would gladly take it. He would gladly pretend he was in a relationship with Alvaro as long as Alvaro wanted it. The fact that it threatened to make his heart jump out of his fucking chest was just. It was just a side effect.

Alvaro gently slid off Paulo’s glove and his own, immediately clutching on to Paulo’s hand again, intertwining their fingers. And Paulo just. He knew that Alvaro always craved for physical affection – he’d been like that since he was sixteen, anyway – but this was on a completely different level. This skin thing, this needing to hold on to Paulo – Alvaro had never been that way. He’d snuck in some kisses here and there, hugged Paulo a lot more than he was probably required to, but Alvaro had never. He had never appeared to crave for Paulo’s skin as much as he was beginning to recently.

Paulo wondered where this was all going. If it was just going to be like that one-night-stand they’d had in March, and Alvaro was just going to bail again, eventually. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this; hell, he wanted to hold Alvaro’s hand so bad it was like his life depended on it. It was just. _He didn’t know what the fuck Alvaro wanted_. Paulo felt so trapped.

They walked to the same corner where they’d turned back, but instead of turning around, Alvaro stopped. He stopped and he turned to Paulo, taking Paulo’s other hand and holding it tight, too, one hand warm with the gloves and the other cold. He slowly brought their hands upwards, next to their shoulders. He smiled at Paulo. He smiled at Paulo and Paulo felt his breath suddenly get robbed from him.

Alvaro leaned forward and pressed his head against Paulo’s. His breaths were a welcoming warmth against Paulo’s cheeks. Paulo just _couldn’t_ move his gaze from Alvaro even if he wanted to; and _fuck, he wanted to_ , he wanted to because he felt like he couldn’t look at Alvaro for one more second without just. Combusting. But he couldn’t. Alvaro’s eyes were riveting.

And like, he wondered why Alvaro was holding his hands like this, because Paulo was like, an entire head shorter than Alvaro and it must have hurt Alvaro’s neck or whatever. But then he realised, well. He didn’t really give a fuck.

Alvaro moved and, for a second, Paulo thought he was going to be kissed again. He closed his eyes in anticipation, but Alvaro only gently touched Paulo’s nose with his own, mouth falling open in a soft gasp. He softly nuzzled Paulo’s nose, breaths getting quicker, matching Paulo’s.

“Paulo,” he whispered, fingers tightening around Paulo’s, and it probably fucking _hurt_ but Paulo didn’t feel a thing. Paulo opened his eyes. Alvaro had closed his and. And he looked, just, like a tortured animal. He looked distressed and hurt and _confused_ , and Paulo wasn’t completely sure where this had come from. Paulo waited, but Alvaro didn’t continue, and Paulo just.

“Alvaro,” Paulo blurted. “Alvaro. What are we doing? What – what are _we?_ ”

Alvaro shook his head and sighed softly. “I –“ he started softly. “I don’t know.”

Then he opened his eyes again – but only briefly, only so he could see where exactly Paulo’s features were. Paulo knew Alvaro was slowly leaning forward again, so slowly he could barely notice it. He really thought this time, he was going to get kissed again. His fingers, too, tightened around Alvaro’s, and fuck. Paulo was waiting for it. He was waiting for Alvaro to kiss him. Now that he knew how it was like to hold Alvaro’s hand on the street, he wanted more. He wanted to know how it was like to kiss Alvaro on the street.

Alvaro leaned forward some more and Paulo felt his lips part in anticipation. He held his breath and clutched at Alvaro’s hands in a bid to hide the tremor in his own, and he nuzzled Alvaro’s nose as a sign of encouragement.

Alvaro’s lips were dry and slightly chapped when he kissed Paulo on the corner of his mouth.

Then Alvaro let go of Paulo’s hands and wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo. Paulo let out the breath he’d been holding and took another one, but. But he felt like his chest was collapsing on itself and he couldn’t fucking _breathe_ and _he loved Alvaro_ and it was slowly but surely tearing him apart.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again, into Paulo’s hair.

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. The wind was cold as fuck and freezing the hell out of Paulo’s face but Paulo still felt like crying. He clung on to Alvaro, afraid that Alvaro would see him cry. He buried his face in the lapels of Alvaro’s coat and just. Just took in Alvaro’s familiar scent, the same one he’d known for six years.

He slid his gloveless hand under Alvaro’s jacket to keep it warm. “Alvi,” he whispered.

“Pau, I’m,” Alvaro interrupted, and he sounded manic, and his hands were desperately moving up and down Paulo’s back. “Paulo. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, hey,” Paulo said, pulling away. Alvaro _looked_ manic, too. Paulo cupped Alvaro’s cheeks with his hands, thumbs resting on Alvaro’s temples. Paulo didn’t have an answer, either. “Let’s just. Go home. Yeah?”

Alvaro nodded, and they continued walking again, silently, until Alvaro said in the softest voice, “Can I hold your hand?”

Paulo burst into a fit of giggles because Alvaro was just. He was adorable. And Paulo didn’t want to waste one second of this peaceful night so he reached over and gently intertwined the fingers of his ungloved hand between those of Alvaro’s.

They stopped at Alvaro’s place, where Alvaro snuck in and scooped the entire pan of paella into a humongous bag and brought it along to Paulo’s house. They heated a generous amount up for the both of them and sat in bed watching The Winter Soldier and at the end of the night Alvaro’s mouth was all orange and Paulo was so _fond_.

“Happy birthday,” Alvaro whispered when it was seven in the morning and he was drifting off to sleep.

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered back. It wasn’t his birthday yet but it certainly felt like it.

“I’ll get you a present from Spain.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. G’night.”

“Night, Alvi,” Paulo said. He watched as Alvaro slowly fell asleep, falling utterly, _hopelessly_ in love with him all over again. He wet a warm towel and used it to wipe all the paprika and saffron stains from Alvaro’s mouth.

He kissed Alvaro’s eyelids and wriggled his way into Alvaro’s arms and pressed himself into Alvaro’s chest, where he seemed to fit. Whatever that had happened just a couple of hours earlier had been long forgotten, and this was the best birthday celebration anyone had ever been able to give Paulo. And magically, it was the simplest. It couldn’t possibly have been any simpler, yet it was the happiest birthday Paulo had ever had.

And in this entire world, Paulo was a hundred percent sure that only Alvaro was capable of doing that.

\------

Alvaro and Paulo were roomies for the trip to Empoli.

They seemed to have this unshakable habit of staying up late whenever they were together. They tried their best to shake it for this trip, though – mainly because they wanted the management to run out of excuses for rejecting their multiple requests to room together. Alvaro had just settled in bed, fresh from a comfortable warm shower, when Paulo called from his bed, “Alvi.”

“Shhh,” Alvaro said. “We’re this close to becoming permanent roomies.”

“Do you think I’m a jinx?” Paulo continued.

“What?” Alvaro asked.

“A jinx. I’m a jinx.”

Alvaro sighed and sat up in bed. “Why would you say that?”

“We’ve been so sucky ever since I came here.”

“That’s not your fault,” Alvaro said. “It’s all of ours.”

“We haven’t even won two games in a row.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alvaro repeated. He got up and went over to Paulo’s bed, shoving Paulo aside so he could climb in. “C’mon, Pau.”

“I’m shit,” Paulo whispered.

“You are not,” Alvaro said. He gave Paulo’s shoulders a firm shake. “Don’t think that way. Don’t you _dare_. This…it’s a team sport. It can’t be just your fault even if you want it to be.”

“Yeah?”

“Paulo, c’mon. We’re going to win tomorrow. I know it.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said again, arms curling around Alvaro’s waist, head seeking the hollow in Alvaro’s shoulder. He closed his eyes. “And if we don’t, will you admit that I’m a jinx?”

“No,” Alvaro smiled, ruffling Paulo’s hair.

Paulo sighed contentedly, like. Like this was literally all he needed. Like just hearing Alvaro tell him it was okay, that it was going to be okay, that _Paulo was okay_ – it was everything Paulo needed. “Alvi, good night.”

“Sweet dreams, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. He stayed in Paulo’s bed; it didn’t seem like he had a choice. He kissed Paulo on the top of his head. Paulo was an angel. He couldn’t possibly do anything wrong in his life.

\------

Their outing against Empoli was a huge success.

Paulo didn’t get to play with Alvaro, though he managed to get substituted in for Alvaro after an hour. Paulo’s heart fell right to the ground when Empoli scored first, and he must have had this devastatingly disappointed look on his face because Alvaro jogged past the bench and ruffled his hair and said, “We can do this. You’re not shit,” and Paulo received like, five confused glances from his teammates, which he pretended not to notice.

And then Mario equalized, and Uncle Pat took them ahead, and Paulo just. He was just so happy. He felt like clouds had literally shifted above him and he could see rays of sunshine.

“Was it cloudy before?” he asked Stefano.

“What,” was Stefano’s very useless reply.

“The sky. Cloudy.”

“Are you blind? It’s sunny as fuck.”

“No, I mean befor – never mind,” Paulo said when Stefano just. Stared at him. He turned back to the action. He wished he had Alvaro to bounce things off.

At half time Alvaro bounded towards him in the tunnel and pounced on him all sweaty and gross. “Told you, told you, told you we’d do it,” he exclaimed.

“You know it’s only half time, right?” Paulo laughed.

“Whatever,” Alvaro said dizzily.

“Alvi, hey,” Paulo said. “Was it cloudy before?”

“What,” was Alvaro’s similarly useless reply. “No, it’s sunny.”

“Has it been sunny since the match started?”

“Yes…?” Alvaro narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck, you forgot how to read the weather?”

“No, just,” Paulo grinned. “It became brighter after Pat scored and I don’t know what’s happening.”

Alvaro gave a very affectionate laugh. “You’re dumb.”

“I am,” Paulo sighed.

Alvaro continued throwing Paulo fond glances whenever he treaded his way along the bench. When Paulo got up to warm up, Alvaro ran past him squealing, “You’re going to score a goal, I know it!”

And then when Paulo got subbed in for Alvaro – when Paulo got subbed in, Alvaro fucking _grabbed his head_ , pulled him close, and _kissed him on the ear_. _Hard_. In front of like, fifteen thousand people and probably two hundred cameras, or whatever.

Paulo just. He momentarily had _no fucking idea_ how to react. His arm flew around Alvaro with the impact but that was all, briefly, as he burst on the pitch and Alvaro disappeared behind him. He jogged into position, the green of the pitch around him suddenly too striking for his eyes.

“There’s my boy,” Paul yelled as he ran past. “Wait, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo heard himself say.

“Damn that Morata, he’s not even trying to be subtle anymore, doesn’t he know there’s like ten million people watching or whatever, and –“

And that was all Paulo caught before Paul ran out of earshot. He smiled a little when he thought of Paul always looking out for him. For _them_ , even though they weren’t anything like what Paul thought they were.

He glanced at the bench and saw Alvaro smiling encouragingly at him, a towel draped over his shoulders and an almost-empty water bottle in his hands. Paulo felt like he was eighteen, nineteen again; at the peak of his affection towards Alvaro, when he would pounce on any little flutter Alvaro gave his stomach and every blush that settled on his cheeks at the sight of him. He felt light-headed. He felt an overwhelming rush, a light tremor in his hands when he thought of the possibility that finally, Alvaro was coming around.

Paulo channeled all that exhilaration into the game, scored Juve’s last goal to seal their first successive win of the season just like Alvaro had predicted, and didn’t feel like shit any longer.

\------

At midnight Argentine time on Paulo’s birthday, his phone buzzed with a call from Alvaro.

“Am I the first?” was the first thing he said. “Tell me I'm the first.”

“Uh, no,” Paulo said. He couldn't believe Alvaro was _twenty three years old._ “Your European buddies already wished me.”

“No, they wished you _yesterday_ ,” Alvaro argued. “Doesn't count.”

“Paul was first,” Paulo informed him.

 _“Am I the first?”_ Alvaro repeated urgently.

Paulo sighed fondly. “Yeah, you're the first. But not until you actually _say it_ , you know.”

“Happy birthday!” Alvaro screamed.

“Fuck off!” Paulo heard someone yelling in the background. Which he could understand, because Europe was like, four hours ahead.

“Thank you,” Paulo burst into laughter. “Hey, isn't it like, four in the morning?”

“Yeah, I woke up at three thirty,” Alvaro said. “Now I can't sleep ‘cause I'm too excited. Also, that scared Nacho and he woke up with a jump. I hope that image makes you smile.”

He was babbling again and Paulo just. “Yeah, you always make me smile.”

Alvaro went silent and Paulo felt this wash of instant regret. Maybe he’d crossed some imaginary line that they’d so intimately straddled over the past few weeks.

But then Alvaro said, in a voice so soft but crisp it was as if he’d suddenly undergone full puberty which eliminated his slurry speech, “You always make me smile, too.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. He was glad he was able to make Alvaro smile. All he wanted, all he’d _ever wanted_ in this world, was to make Alvaro smile.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. Paulo could sense the tender smile Alvaro was giving the phone.

There was a period of silence, then confirmation from Nacho in the background: “What the fuck, Morata, wipe that disgusting smile off your fucking face.”

“Fuck off,” was Alvaro’s reply. “Don't mind him,” he said to Paulo.

“You should go back to sleep,” Paulo said. He felt this warmth in his chest. Less like a rock and more like. Like molten lava, bleeding throughout his body.

“Late day tomorrow,” Alvaro said quietly. “Promised to spend your birthday with you.”

“Thank you, Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro gave a little chuckle into the phone, the previous adrenaline from being the first to wish Paulo evidently rapidly fading away. “What d’you wanna do?” he asked.

“I don’t know, whatever’s fine. Tell me about your day or something.”

Alvaro’s voice was all sleepy and whiny as he recited the day’s events to Paulo. But Paulo didn’t care. He was temporarily transported to pre-2012, when this was one of the only times of day that he could speak to Alvaro. Even though Alvaro had gradually stopped talking to him about sex; because they’d both matured, because Paulo and Mia knew each other and it’d be awkward, or because of everything that had happened between them, Paulo didn't know. Paulo didn't care. Alvaro could talk about whatever and Paulo would listen just because he wanted to and not because he had to. He was just. Hit so hard by the fact that all these were things of the past.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered right before he was about to fall asleep.

“Yeah?” Paulo said. It was like, two am and Paulo should’ve probably been sleeping, but. But he was just so _addicted_ to Alvaro’s voice.

“I just,” Alvaro said softly. “I just, you know. Thank you. Thank you for being my friend.”

“Hey,” Paulo laughed softly. “Of course.”

“It’s just that, you know. You’ve had so many chances to just. Get away from me. But you’re still here.”

“Of course I am. Alvi. You’re like, the best friend I’ve ever had. Ever.” _And I’m in love with you. How could I ever walk away? I'm in love with you._

“Funny how fate works, huh?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled.

“Happy birthday, Paulo Bruno Dybala, my favourite person in the universe.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered. He closed his eyes. “Alvaro Borja Morata, _my_ favourite person in the universe.”

“You know, if alternate universes exist, you’ll be my favourite person in all of them, too.”

Paulo laughed. “That doesn't really fit in the concept of ‘alternate,’” he pointed out.

“Whatever,” Alvaro huffed. “Rules. We break them. That’s what they’re for. It’s what makes us…us.”

And then he promptly fell asleep, which made Paulo think maybe he had been sleep talking.

“Good night, Alvi,” he whispered, to no reply. He lay there with the phone to his ear, phone company’s alarm bells probably already ringing shrilly with all the minutes they were both wasting; he lay there just listening to Alvaro’s loud breathing and thought to himself: it didn't matter if this birthday was the same as all the others, spent half the world away from Alvaro. Because all he’d ever wanted to was to hear Alvaro’s voice, have Alvaro wish him. Everything else was just. It was just a nice bonus.

\------

To Alvaro’s credit, he really did bring Paulo a present from Spain. Presents, even.

He appeared at Paulo’s doorstep with like, a fucking huge gift basket, complete with a baby blue ribbon tied around it.

“Sorry, baby shower’s down the road,” Paulo said when he opened the door.

“Fuck you, I put in a lot of effort, okay.”

“You wanna, uh,” Paulo opened the door wider to accommodate Alvaro and the basket. “Come in?”

“Yeah, but I can’t stay long,” Alvaro said, stumbling through the doorway. “Meeting Mia.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paulo said. Mia hadn’t been a topic of conversation for a long time. Paulo had barely even seen her the last few weeks. “She’s back?”

“She moved departments, so now she’s staying in Turin,” Alvaro grinned. He looked _elated_. “No more travelling. No more lonely Alvaro.”

“That’s great,” Paulo said sincerely. Well, as sincerely as he could manage. Because, selfishly, Mia staying in Turin meant Paulo had less time with Alvaro. But, you know. As long as Alvaro was happy.

“C’mon, open your baby shower thingy,” Alvaro said, pushing the basket towards Paulo.

He watched eagerly as Paulo unwrapped the whole thing, like the only intention of him staying was to actually see how Paulo would react. The basket was. It was filled to the brim with like, tons of food.

“I didn’t know what to get you, so I got you everything,” Alvaro confessed.

“Are you trying to plump me up or something?” Paulo asked, pulling out bag after bag of milk sweets. And dried ham. And uncooked rice. And spices.

“Trying to make you grow taller,” Alvaro smirked, earning himself a punch on the shoulder. “It’s all of Spain’s specialties. I ran all around town getting them, you know?”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered, touched. He liked the basket. It was like a little care package from Alvaro. There were even like, t-shirts inside, with some traditional Spanish print or something.

When Paulo asked about them, Alvaro said, “Well, all your t-shirts are either black or white with nothing on them. I thought these would be nice. They’re a bit big, you could wear them at home.” And _God_ , Alvaro was acting like a mom.

Right at the bottom of the basket, underneath everything else, Paulo found a photo frame.

And in it was an acrylic painting of Paulo and Alvaro, fucking _beaming_ at each other, wearing their coincidental matching grey t-shirts and walking out from Vinovo.

“What’s this?” Paulo asked.

“Street artist,” Alvaro said. He was gazing fondly at Paulo and smiling. “I gave him a photo of us.”

Paulo didn’t even know that photo existed. It must have been from one of the Vinovo photographers. Or paparazzi. But whatever it was, it looked amazing. Paulo just. He wasn’t aware he looked at Alvaro like _that_.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Alvaro smiled. He opened his arms at the exact same moment Paulo moved in to hug him. “Happy birthday, again.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered. He was suddenly overcome by a deep nostalgia, the kind that tugged downwards on his heart and left his chest empty. “Alvaro. Thank you so much.”

“Hey,” Alvaro smiled as he kissed the top of Paulo’s head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s just, you care, you know?” Paulo said, his voice beginning to thicken. “You care about me, and. And not a lot of people do. At least, not a lot of people have cared for me for _this long_.”

“I can’t not care about you,” Alvaro gently smoothened Paulo’s hair back on his head. “You’re my favourite, remember?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“What does this all mean?” Paulo asked. He just. He just couldn’t resist. He couldn’t resist one more second not knowing exactly where he and Alvaro stood. He couldn’t resist not knowing if all the hopeful signs he’d witnessed over the past one month were just an effect of him overthinking and overanalysing, and they’d eventually end up at square one.

Alvaro went completely silent. If his hand hadn’t been running methodically through Paulo’s hair, it would’ve been like he wasn’t there.

Five whole minutes later, Alvaro whispered, “Do you think we’ll ever figure it out?”

That question remained hanging in the air even after Alvaro had left to be with Mia. It electrified the room, the atmosphere in Paulo’s house. It made Paulo sick. Not knowing the answer, not knowing where they were headed, not knowing if Alvaro ever _wanted_ to know the answer, and above all, _knowing_ that him and Alvaro’s relationship was effectively back at ground zero again – it made Paulo sick.


	27. I Can't Go On And On, Setting Fires To Keep You Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Alvaro loses it. Paulo loses it. Everyone, including me and you, loses it.
> 
> This chapter is also officially known as 'let's see how many times I accidentally type Paulo instead of Paul, part 1.' If you spot any mistakes of this kind, do let me know. Enjoy! :)
> 
> Title is from Setting Fires by The Chainsmokers ft. XYLØ.

When Juve played Palermo for the first time at the end of November, Paulo walked into the wrong locker room. And the wrong shower facility. Both times, Alvaro had started walking with him, but stopped when he realised Paulo was walking in the wrong direction. And both times, he stood at the end of the hallway laughing his fucking head off as Paulo realised he was surrounded by pink shirts instead of black and white.

When Paulo walked into the wrong locker room again after showering and Alvaro did absolutely _nothing_ to stop him, he was like, whatever. The Palermo locker room was almost empty.

Franco sat at his locker, peering over at Paulo. “Don’t think I didn’t see you walk in here earlier, too.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo said, embarrassed. Franco burst into loud laughter.

“How’re you doing, kiddo?” he asked as Paulo wandered over slowly and sat down next to him.

“Great, yeah,” Paulo grinned. “You?”

“I’m good,” Franco said, smiling fondly at Paulo, and fuck. Paulo missed him. Not just in the physical way, but. He missed Franco looking out for him. “That Morata treating you right?”

And as fate would have it, Alvaro popped his head around the door right at that very moment. He took a double take when he heard Franco say his name, but it was too late and Franco had already seen him. And of course, neither of them had made any move to apologise after that little jealous fit Franco had called Alvaro out for, so. So they just stared at each other until Alvaro finally said, “Uh. Um. I’ll, yeah. Wait outside.”

Then he scooted back around the doorway and Franco started laughing. “God, he’s ridiculous.”

“He’s alright,” Paulo said.

“You haven’t answered me. He treating you right?”

Paulo shrugged. “Right as can be.”

Franco scoffed. He got up and went to the door, causing Paulo to quickly follow him. He knew Franco wouldn’t, but. But Paulo didn’t want there to be like, a fight or whatever, because knowing Alvaro, he’d punch Franco in a heartbeat if Franco so much as said a word to insult him.

“Be nice,” Paulo whispered urgently as Franco tapped Alvaro on the back. Alvaro jumped and Paulo almost snickered.

Paulo held his breath as Franco stared Alvaro down. Alvaro looked like a timid little deer and Paulo stepped next to him instinctively.

And then Franco clasped Alvaro’s hand and clapped his back in a half-hug, and he said, “Good game, Morata,” and Alvaro just. He stared at Franco some more, and then turned to Paulo as if to ask if this was really happening.

Paulo nodded and smiled, though he couldn’t believe it himself. Maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder for Franco and Alvaro.

“Uh, yeah,” Alvaro stammered. “I mean. Thanks. You, too.”

And then he cringed violently, because well, Palermo had just been beaten 3-0 after all.

Franco laughed. “You’re ridiculous,” he said again, then turned to Paulo. “He’s ridiculous.”

“ _You’re_ ridiculous,” Paulo said defensively.

Franco smiled fondly and wrapped Paulo up in a tight hug. “Missed you, Dybala,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” Paulo said into his shoulder, and then pulled away because he could feel the hole Alvaro was boring in his back with the way he was glaring at them. “Call me later?”

“Of course,” Franco said. He very pointedly looked at Alvaro, and then back at Paulo. “You still single, yeah?”

Alvaro cringed again. Paulo said, “Yeah.”

“People don’t know what they’re missing,” Franco said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Alvaro sighed and pivoted on his heel, taking a few steps away from Paulo and Franco. “Dybala,” Franco said, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re really doing good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “Promise,” he added, though he wasn’t really sure.

“Good, ‘cause you look good,” Franco said. “Just. Just know you can talk to me, yeah?”

Paulo nodded. After a very loud, startling yell of “Bye, Morata,” Franco disappeared back inside the locker room.

Paulo went over to Alvaro and briefly considered hooking their arms together but then decided against it; he’d been trying to pull away from Alvaro more, to not be so dependent on him. After all, Alvaro was always going to bolt in the end. It didn’t do Paulo any good to build up all this hope and then have it dumped on the ground and stomped on when Alvaro got bored.

“Paulo,” Alvaro started as they walked silently back to their own locker room.

“Forget about it,” Paulo said softly. “Forget about it.”

A short pause, then, “I’m ridiculous.”

“You are,” Paulo agreed, earning himself a gentle shove against the wall.

“You miss Franco, yeah?” Alvaro asked. He sounded a little…jealous.

“You miss Isco?” Paulo shot back teasingly.

“Are you kidding? Isco’s annoying,” Alvaro said.

“But you miss him.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Because he’s your friend,” Paulo said softly. “And Franco’s my friend. I’m allowed to miss him.”

“Yeah, just,” Alvaro whispered. “Yeah.”

“He was more than just a friend. You know that. And you know how it feels like, yeah? To be far from…from someone who’s like how Franco is to me.”

Alvaro nodded, and then before Paulo could protest, slung his arm over Paulo’s shoulders and hugged Paulo close. Paulo couldn’t help but press himself close, seeking Alvaro’s familiar warmth, all the defenses he’d put up over the past two weeks suddenly failing.

Paulo hated that he always fell back into this rhythm with Alvaro. He hated that he could never break out of this toxic cycle no matter how hard he tried.

“So,” Alvaro cleared his throat. “You gonna, uh, like. Hook up with Franco tonight?”

“Um,” was all Paulo could say. In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought about it. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Alvaro said quietly.

They returned to their shared hotel room – yes, they’d finally managed to convince the bosses that they could survive being in the same room on road trips – with a tense silence hanging between them. And then Alvaro went off to meet Mia, who was in Sicily to watch the match.

Paulo sat in all his loneliness for a half hour before deciding that jerking off just wouldn’t do it for him. He got up, put on the plainest clothes he had in his bag, dragged a cap over his head, and hailed a cab to take him to Franco’s place.

\------

“Well, hello,” Franco said belatedly when they were both lying in his bed, on top of the sheets, staring at the ceiling breathlessly. They hadn’t had any time for any greeting earlier, Paulo making known what exactly it was he needed with merely his body. “I knew you’d come. I mean, come to my place. But also, come.”

Paulo shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, Vazquez.”

Franco laughed. He sounded exhausted. “How you doing, Dybala? I know you were lying earlier, so don’t lie to me again.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not.”

Paulo sighed. “It’s…it’s Alvaro.”

“I don’t even know what else I expected,” Franco said. He turned to his side so he was facing Paulo, eyes doing that eager puppy look that told Paulo he was willing to listen.

“I don’t know what he wants from me,” Paulo whispered, closing his eyes. “I keep thinking. I keep…trying. To understand. But I don’t.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Paulo said. “He just. He does things. He does things that make me feel like, like there might be hope, you know? That maybe, he’s finally changed his mind. And then he just leaves it. Like I’m expected to know. Like I’m expected to just sit here and wait for him to tell me what I’m supposed to do. What he wants me to do.”

“Like,” Franco waved his hand vaguely in the air. “Has he kissed you? Since, you know, since that day he fucked you and left.”

“No, but,” Paulo sighed. “I mean, yeah, on the cheek. But it’s just. Okay. On his birthday, we took a walk in the middle of the night and he just. He held my hand, okay? He held my hand while we were walking on the street and fuck, Franco. I was so fucking happy. And then we did it again on my birthday, and I asked him what it all meant, and he had no answer.”

“Until now?” Franco asked in disbelief. “Wow.”

“I just, I don’t know. Three weeks ago at Empoli he fucking kissed me when I was getting subbed on for him. I don’t think you’ve seen it, but. He fucking. He did it. In front of like, _everyone_ , and Franco, you know Paul thinks we’re together? Pogba. He thinks Alvaro and I are a couple. I just. Franco.”

“Okay, okay,” Franco shimmied over and wrapped his arms protectively around Paulo.

“I’m tired,” Paulo whispered.

“You don’t have to sit around waiting for him, you know?” Franco said softly. “He doesn’t deserve this. _You_ don’t deserve this. If he wants you as much as he’s acting like he does, then he’s gotta come and fucking _get you_ , yeah? You can’t just put your entire life on hold waiting for him.”

“I know,” Paulo said. “I know. It’s just, he’s being so possessive, you know? And I try so hard to distance myself but. But he always comes back and he acts like. Like I’m his. And I kinda like that. Being his.”

“Okay, I understand that, but. Don’t you feel smothered?”

“A little,” Paulo confessed.

“You’ve got to put your foot down, Dybala. I know you’re in love with him and all that shit. But you’ve heard me say this before: _he doesn’t own you_. This…this doesn’t do you any good, and I don’t want to see you miserable all over again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “Vazquez, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me or my dick?” Franco said, causing the both of them to burst into laughter. “I’ve missed you, too. How are you? Besides all the Morata crap.”

“Good, yeah. You? You’re not planning to get that gigantic Christmas Lego set, are you?”

“Fuck off, of course I am,” Franco said, nudging Paulo away. “I’m good, too.”

“Will you call me more?”

“Of course,” Franco smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got to head back to the hotel,” Paulo said, reluctantly getting up and grabbing his clothes. “I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Franco sighed, flinging an arm over his eyes dramatically. “Look at you, learning nicely from Morata, fucking me and leaving.”

“Fuck off,” Paulo laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

Franco got up, anyway, and put on his pants and went with Paulo to the door. He wrapped Paulo up in a big hug and Paulo was hit with this violent nostalgia. He missed having Franco around to be his fortress against the wind and rain. It was pretty amazing how they still knew each other inside out physically despite already having spent six months apart. And Franco was just. He was an amazing friend. Paulo didn’t understand how he had the luck to meet Franco.

When he reached the hotel room, Alvaro was already in bed, awake and waiting.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Paulo asked as he changed into his pajama pants and climbed into bed.

“I just got in,” Alvaro said. It was a blatant lie, because the fog on the bathroom mirror had long disappeared save for a tiny quadrant at the very corner. “Were you with Franco?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said dismissively. Alvaro went quiet, the wheels turning almost audibly in his head. When he didn’t say anything else – or _thank God_ , didn’t ask if Paulo and Franco had been, you know, fucking – Paulo lay down and said, “Night, Alvi.”

“Night,” Alvaro whispered after five whole seconds of hesitant silence.

Paulo closed his eyes and managed to fall asleep after trying his hardest to ignore the fact that Alvaro was staring daggers into his back.

\------

Alvaro did it again.

He did it again in front of millions of people, when Juve came from behind to beat Fiorentina and Paulo again scored the last goal to seal the win. He ran up to Paulo when Paul had finally let go of him and Paulo had fallen to the ground in this state of complete ecstasy.

And then he lay down on top of Paulo, and all Paulo could see was his mesmerizing brown eyes, and all Paulo wanted to _do_ was fucking _hug the fuck out of Alvaro,_ so Paulo welcomed him with open arms, without any hesitation, temporarily forgetting that the entire world was watching them.

Paulo let Alvaro’s weight engulf him. He wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s neck and let Alvaro press him against the ground and whisper kind words into his ear, kind words that he forgot within a second, but kind words nonetheless. He let Alvaro completely smother him physically. He let himself temporarily be transported to that night in spring, when Alvaro was in his bed. Alvaro’s weight. Alvaro’s weight was the only kind of weight Paulo was willing to carry on his shoulders, on his back, on any part of his body, for as long as he had to.

“Thank you,” he whispered as Alvaro moved to get up. He clung on to Alvaro’s shirt until Alvaro was out of reach, kneeling on the ground next to Paulo and gazing affectionately down at Paulo.

Alvaro gave him two gentle pats on his stomach. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he said.

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. Alvaro was. Alvaro looked so delighted and so gorgeous under the stadium lights and Paulo. Paulo loved him. He loved Alvaro and wow, fuck, the feeling was suddenly overwhelming and even though Paulo was lying down on the ground, the stadium seemed to start spinning around him. Paulo covered his face with his hands. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. C’mon,” Alvaro said, and he was still beaming when Paulo opened his eyes again. He grabbed Paulo’s hands and hoisted Paulo to his feet, and after another affectionate ruffle of Paulo’s hair, went off running again with one last smile thrown over his shoulder towards Paulo.

When Paulo finally checked his phone after getting home, he saw a text from Franco.

 _Saw it this time,_ was all it said.

 _I keep falling back,_ Paulo replied.

 _I know,_ Franco texted. _You’re_ _in love, Dybala_.

Paulo turned off his phone and went to sleep.

\------

It looked like Juve was going to finish the year in the top five, after all. The win against Fiorentina had dragged them up to fourth, which seemed a really big feat after all the drama at the beginning of the season.

The usual FIFA gang gathered at Paulo’s place the next day to celebrate that last home win of the year. Alvaro was in a team with Simone, who was having an argument with Paul and Paulo about how he and Alvaro deserved to play as Juve next. Tired of the argument (and because he knew the team didn’t matter, anyway, because they could trash Paul and Paulo using some random team from the third division or whatever), Alvaro stood up and headed to Paulo’s kitchen to steal some food, as usual. Paulo had like, a ton of those milk sweets Alvaro had given him lying around, anyway.

He grabbed a handful and headed back outside, where Simone greeted him with, “Thanks for the support, man,” and an outstretched hand holding a controller. Their side of the screen had Palermo – Paulo’s choice, evidently.

And then. And then Alvaro saw Paul and Paulo, foreheads almost pressed together, whispering conspiratorially about something as they shifted their cursor around. And Paulo. Paulo’s smile was so wide, his eyes so bright, and his laugh so soft and delightful. He burst into a fit of giggles as Paul whispered a joke, and then draped himself over Paul in uncontrollable laughter.

And wow, Alvaro just. He had never seen anyone else make Paulo laugh that way, never seen Paulo look at anyone else that way. _He_ wanted to be the one to make Paulo behave like that. He wanted to make Paulo _happy_. He wanted _Paulo_. And wow, _okay_ , Paulo had just grabbed Paul’s hand to direct his cursor around and Alvaro. Alvaro just.

He stormed over to where the three of them were sitting, stepped over Paul’s feet, and wriggled into the little space between Paul and Paulo, nudging the both of them aside until he had space for himself.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Paul said. “Sit with your own teammate.”

“Yeah, sit with your own teammate,” Simone said, sounding hurt.

“Alvi, sit on my other side,” Paulo said, which, well. Made a lot of sense because that would put Alvaro between Simone and Paulo, but.

But Alvaro _didn’t want Paul to touch Paulo_.

Alvaro reached over and took the controller from Simone. “More fun like this,” he said, looking straight ahead, watching Simone toggle Palermo around.

Paul stared at him for a moment, then turned to Paulo, and then finally back in front. Alvaro fiddled with the controller restlessly, accidentally undoing all of Simone’s changes.

“What the fuck!” Simone yelled. “Alvaro, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Alvaro’s middle finger went up at Simone. He leaned back and waited for Simone to do whatever shit he wanted – only to have Paul and Paulo gather again, leaning across right in front of him and whispering into each other’s ears, their faces barely _one inch apart_. Although honestly, even _three inches_ would have been too much for Alvaro.

Alvaro put his controller down, put a hand each on Paul and Paulo’s shoulders, and shoved them apart.

“Stop it,” he hissed. “Get the _fuck_ away from Paulo.”

They both turned and stared at him, confused. A couple of seconds later, Simone joined in, gaze switching between Paul, Paulo, and Alvaro.

“Alvaro,” Paulo said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just. I don’t like this.”

“What, I can’t discuss tactics with my teammate?” Paulo asked.

“Not like,” Alvaro waved his hands around vaguely. “Not like this.”

“Like _what_?” Paulo demanded. “Look, Alvaro, you chose to sit in between us. You can’t blame us for trying to discuss around you.”

Alvaro had nothing to say to that, so what followed was the longest period of awkward silence Alvaro had ever experienced in his life.

And then Paul stood up slowly and placed the controller on the table. “I guess, uh,” he cleared his throat, glance darting from Paulo and Alvaro to Simone. “I should go?”

“No,” Paulo snapped, still staring, _glaring_ at Alvaro. “Stay.”

“Uh,” Paul said again. “Simo?”

“Yeah, uh,” Simone stood up hurriedly. “We’ll make a move.”

Then they grabbed their things and brisk-walked out the door, leaving Alvaro and Paulo all alone in all their misery. Alvaro didn’t want to turn and look at Paulo. He was sure he could see in Paulo’s eyes all the confusion he was feeling himself. It wasn’t as if Paulo hadn’t been touched by other people in his life. It wasn’t as if Paulo didn’t have any other good friends he could hang out and laugh with, besides Alvaro. _It wasn’t as if Paulo was his_.

“What the fuck was that?” Paulo demanded.

“I don’t like it.”

“And?”

“ _I don’t like it._ ”

“And that gives you what right?” Paulo asked, his voice several decibels higher. “You’re my _friend_. They’re _my friends_ , too. And _I choose_ who I want to hang out with, who I want to laugh with, who I want to play fucking FIFA with. Okay? _Not you_.”

“Paulo –“ Alvaro said, but Paulo had already stood up and grabbed his hoodie. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to them,” Paulo said curtly. “What, you going to tie me to a chair and stop me from seeing them?”

“Paulo, I –“

“Leave. Don’t be here when I get back.”

And then he shut the door loudly, and Alvaro went to the window, where he saw Paulo hurry down the street after Simone and Paul without turning back.

\------

Paulo managed to catch up with Simone and Paul before they got too far.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing both their shoulders to stop them. “Hey, um. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into Alvaro.”

“Yeah, it’s, um,” Simone made a vague gesture at nothing. “It’s fine. You two wanna be alone, yeah?”

“Why would we?”

“To…” Paul made the same gesture Simone had made. “Do…stuff.”

Paulo sighed. No matter how much the words hurt him to say, he had to say them. “Look. I don’t know where you two got the idea but we’re not a couple, okay? Me and Alvaro. We’re just friends.”

“He was jealous,” Simone pointed out. “He didn’t want anyone to touch you.”

“And I don’t know why he was like that,” Paulo said. “I’m sorry.”

“And you’re apologizing for him,” Paul said, with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m not,” Paulo said, feeling a blush creep over his cheeks.

“You don’t have to keep it from us,” Paul added. “We’re okay. Yeah, Simo?”

“Yeah,” Simone smiled.

“There’s nothing to be okay about. There’s. There’s _nothing_.”

“Nothing?” Paul repeated, just to be sure. He looked like he didn’t believe Paulo.

“Not one bit,” Paulo confirmed. “It’s just. It’s a really long story, okay? But the most important thing is…there’s nothing. Doesn’t matter…doesn’t matter how we both feel, or how I feel, there’s just. There’s _nothing_. Okay?”

And by the end of that Paulo found himself almost in tears, and _God_ , it was the most embarrassing thing ever. Paul seemed to realise it. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo, pressing Paulo’s face into his chest.

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing,” Paulo sobbed, and fuck, he hated that he was having a complete breakdown in the middle of the street with Paul and Simone watching him.

“Does he know how you feel?” Paul whispered again, like he was afraid there were hidden microphones or whatever. Paulo nodded, which led Paul to continue, “And he hasn’t acted on it?”

Paulo nodded again.

“Then he has no right to be jealous,” Paul said softly, gently stroking Paulo’s back.

“Maybe, uh, maybe go back and talk to him?” Simone said, shuffling his feet around. He came over and wrapped his arms around Paulo as well, because of course Simone had to join in _everything_.

“It’s just. It’s okay,” Paulo whispered. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. That you guys had to leave.”

“It’s fine,” Paul said encouragingly.

“We’ll see you in training, yeah?” Simone ruffled Paulo’s hair. “Go make things right with Morata.”

There was one last firm group hug before Paul and Simone gave Paulo a little nudge to send him on his way. Paulo tugged his hood over his head, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and headed home, unsure if he was hoping to see Alvaro still there, or not.

\------

Alvaro was pacing around behind the couch when Paulo returned.

“Paulo,” he said when Paulo stepped through the doorway.

“What are you still doing here?” Paulo said. His eyes were a little red, like he had been crying. “I told you to leave.”

“Paulo, we need to talk.”

“About?” Paulo asked. He turned to drape his hoodie over a chair. And didn’t turn back to look at Alvaro.

Alvaro went quiet. He hadn’t planned this. He had no idea what he wanted to talk to Paulo about, he just _knew_ that they had a million things to talk about. A million things they _had_ to talk about. But he had no idea where to _start_.

They stood in complete silence for the next five minutes before Paulo finally said, “Franco was right.”

“What?” Alvaro asked.

“Franco was right,” Paulo repeated, his voice thick with tears. “Franco was right and I hate that he was. I hate that he saw it right from the very start and I was too blind to see the same. I was too blinded by all my feelings for you to see that he had always been right. I’m not yours, Alvaro. I don’t belong to you and I don’t need, _don’t want_ you to claim me as yours. I don’t want you to hover around and be jealous of every person who talks to me. Why should you be jealous, Alvaro? I’m not yours. I’ve never been yours.”

 _But you are_ , Alvaro wanted to say. _You’re my Paulo._

“Paulo,” was what Alvaro said instead. “You know the reason. You know why we…have to be like this.”

“I don’t,” Paulo said. “I don’t. Not anymore. He was right, Alvaro, Franco was right. You’re a coward. You’re too afraid to step into this because you’re afraid it will ruin your entire life. Guess what, Alvaro? I’m scared, too. I’m scared out of my fucking _wits_ , Alvaro. I have been scared since the first day I realised I was…that I like men. That I’m bi. I’ve been afraid all my fucking life. But I made a choice to stick by it. And you made a choice too, Alvaro. You chose to stay on your straight path and I don’t blame you for that. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can’t see how _selfish_ you’re being. You can’t have it all, Alvaro. You can’t have Mia and me and your wonderful football career all at once. You have to choose, and yeah. I know you’ve chosen. You’ve chosen Mia and your career and I understand that. But just. Why don’t you just let me go? Why do you keep…why do you keep clinging on to me and trying to stake your claim on me and just. Just bring my hopes up time and time _and fucking time again_ when in the end, we’ll only end up right where we started?”

“You liked it, yeah?” Alvaro said softly, his voice beginning to shake. His _hands_ beginning to shake. “You liked…everything that happened between us? The walks. The sleepovers. The…the sex.”

Paulo turned around and. And fucking _glared_ at Alvaro. “And so what if I did?”

“I liked it, too,” Alvaro whispered.

“But it doesn’t mean _anything_ to you, does it?” Paulo demanded. Tears were streaming down his face and. And Alvaro felt his heart break into a million little pieces. “You still don’t get it, do you, Alvaro? It’s been the same thing as that time in 2011, when I went to Romania to watch you and. And you fucking kissed me and pretended nothing happened. It’s the exact same thing, Alvaro, you kissing me and fucking me and holding hands with me and then acting like nothing happened, because you know I’ll come crawling back every time. It’s like. It’s like I’m your toy, or whatever. Fuck, that’s what I am. I’m your fucking side bitch.”

“You’re not,” Alvaro said. “Paulo. You’re not.”

“Pretending…pretending everything was okay, holding hands, you being slightly jealous and whatever, it was nice. It was cute. But it’s not anymore. You can’t just. Just play with me like that, Alvaro, fuck. You can’t pretend everything is good, you can’t pretend that you like me and want to be in a relationship with me and then just. Leave me hanging. Alvaro. You can’t.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Alvaro said. He took a step towards Paulo but Paulo immediately recoiled and Alvaro’s heart just. Just fell right to the ground. “Paulo, please.”

“I’m tired,” Paulo said. He closed his eyes, his fists clenched and his body swaying slightly side to side. “Alvaro. I’m so tired of this.”

“Paulo, I’m sorry,” Alvaro whispered. He took a few steps towards Paulo while he wasn’t looking. “I don’t know what to do, Paulo, I really, really don’t. I love spending time with you. I loved doing…all those things with you. I just. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to ruin your entire life.”

“Have you maybe thought that you already have?” Paulo whispered. “Hurt me?”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said, tears brimming in his own eyes. He felt like. Like this was the last time he was ever going to get to talk to Paulo. He felt like Paulo was slipping out of his hands. “I get jealous because…because I want you and I can never have you. I just. I want to make it up to you.”

“Well, you’re not,” Paulo snapped. He opened his eyes and went over to the door. “You will never. Not as long as you continue acting this way, being a selfish, _greedy_ asshole. I don’t need this, okay, Alvaro? I don’t need this. This hanging around trying to read you, trying to figure out what you want from me. I _don’t fucking know what you want from me_. I’ve stuck by your side for as long as I can remember, hoping that you mean what you’re doing, that you mean it when you say you care for me and you’re doing this for the both of us. But I’m not going to sit around and wait anymore. We’re done, Alvaro.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro tried desperately as Paulo opened the door for him to leave. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do, Paulo.”

“You do,” Paulo said coldly, knuckle turning white with how tightly he was holding the door handle. “You do, Alvaro. You know what to do. You just don’t want to do it.”

Alvaro reached out for Paulo’s hand but Paulo pulled it away from his reach. Paulo stood half behind his front door, holding it open, glaring at the floor in front of him like it took all his energy to stop himself from looking at Alvaro. Alvaro loved those eyes. He loved those eyes, and those lips and those hands and that hair, and knowing that he wasn’t even going to get one last chance to touch them, it flooded Alvaro’s entire being with a violent despair.

“Paulo, I’m sorry,” was all Alvaro managed to whisper, weakly, before Paulo shut the door in his face.


	28. I Wish I Could Still Wish It Was Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again guys!  
> Again thank you so much for sticking with me. I'm always looking forward to hear what you think and thank you all so much for your encouragement, it really means a lot to me :)
> 
> I mentioned a few chapters ago that I'll be making a playlist for this fic, and I'm glad to say that I've just finished putting it together! You can listen to it on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/3VhjeM5HLitEyiMD7xCs1I) or [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlppYluHO6Ze_1YiEMuDV2cncufdIiR3Y). There's an extra song at the end of the Youtube playlist because that song can't be found on Spotify. I might add some more songs along the way, no promises yet, but for now I hope you guys like it! Please please let me know what you think about it :)
> 
> Again thank you all so so much, and please enjoy!
> 
> Title is from If You Ever Come Back by The Script.

Alvaro headed over to their last training session of the year alone.

He hovered around outside Paulo’s house for a while, trying to accidentally-on-purpose bump into Paulo on the way. But Paulo never appeared – Alvaro thought maybe he’d seen Alvaro through the front window and decided to wait for Alvaro to leave. But he reached Vinovo only to see Paulo already there, getting a headstart on the pitch with Paul, Leo, and Lemina. He must have left way too early. While Alvaro was, well. He was late.

Alvaro didn’t understand how this could feel as much like a breakup that it did. Paulo had been right, and Alvaro had been intending it from the start – they hadn’t been in a relationship. They hadn’t been a couple, an item, or whatever cheesy shit people were calling it nowadays. But it meant that Alvaro couldn’t explain that tugging in his chest, that unseen force dragging him towards Paulo, that urge to talk to Paulo and ask him how he was doing, or that yearning to wrap Paulo in a big hug and never let him go.

Paulo had always been the better one at hiding his feelings. At holding it together. Alvaro had always been the one who was more impulsive, who was more likely to spew all his emotions out on the table. But on that day, Alvaro had to be strong like Paulo.

He gathered in the pre-training circle around Allegri, making sure to keep a respectable distance away from Paulo. But he found himself drifting closer, discreetly making his way around the circumference of the circle, slowly towards Paulo like there was this strong, undeniable attraction between them.

To Paulo’s credit, he kept his eyes straight ahead of him, focused on whatever Allegri was saying. He didn’t notice Alvaro approaching – or if he had, he did a good job of completely ignoring Alvaro.

“Paulo,” he whispered when Allegri was reading out the team sheets for the day. It was the first word he and Paulo had spoken to each other since their fight two days ago. Paulo turned, seemingly surprised that Alvaro had popped out of nowhere. So he _hadn't_ seen Alvaro. It made sense. Paulo had always used football as a means of escape. “Hey. How are you?”

“Fine,” Paulo said. And well, getting Paulo to speak to him was considered a kind of achievement for Alvaro.

“You, uh, maybe wanna have dinner later?”

“No,” Paulo said, not caring to evaluate. He grabbed a bib and put it on as everyone dispersed into their teams.

“Pau,” Alvaro said. He reached for Paulo’s arm but Paulo shook him off. “Please.”

“What do you want from me?” Paulo asked. He looked hurt and confused and. And it was Alvaro’s fault. And Alvaro wanted to make this right, he would do literally _anything_ to make it right.

“I just want to talk to you,” Alvaro begged. “Paulo. Paulo, just let me talk to you.”

Paulo gave a little sarcastic laugh. “And I’ve never given you the chance before?” he asked, before turning and jogging towards the rest, who were already in position for the training match.

Alvaro took a peek at the team sheet (which he’d missed the reciting of, obviously), and saw that he wasn’t on Paulo’s team. He was on the same side as Simone, though, so he got into position near Simone.

This little unimportant training ground match played second fiddle to whatever that was going on between Paulo and Alvaro, though. Alvaro found himself drifting towards Paulo even though they were literally on opposite ends. He found his gaze following Paulo. He found himself running back to defend, even though he wasn’t required to, just so he could be _close to Paulo_.

“Hey, Paulo,” he breathed as he ran alongside Paulo. “Please, just. Just. Let’s talk.”

“I’ve already said what I wanted to.”

“Let me talk. Let me…explain. I want to talk to you.”

“Alvaro, stop it. Just. Just focus on this now.”

“No,” Alvaro said, intercepting the ball that was coming their way and passing it on to Claudio. “Paulo, I really want to talk to you.”

“Stop following me,” Paulo said, trying to avoid Alvaro by running in wiggly lines. “Alvaro, act your fucking age for once.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, and he was so fucking out of breath and exhausted and. And Paulo was getting away from him, both physically and emotionally. In all these years Alvaro had known Paulo, Paulo had never been this close; but he had never been this _far_ , either.

So Alvaro had no choice. He wasn’t going to let Paulo slip out of his grasp just like this, without trying – and trying and _trying_ – to get him to listen. If Paulo would just _listen_. Alvaro _loved him_. Alvaro loved him and he wanted Paulo to know, he wanted Paulo to know that he couldn’t say it not because he didn’t want to. He couldn’t say it because he knew once he did, there was no going back. Once it was out in the open, that Alvaro loved Paulo, their lives would be changed forever, and Alvaro wasn’t sure if it was going to be for good or for bad. And he wanted good for Paulo. He always wanted good for Paulo.

He chased after Paulo, who had very magically returned his focus fully to the game – Alvaro admired his best friend so fucking much, honestly – and ran up to him again right as he received the ball.

Alvaro charged forward. He charged forward and dived in, both feet off the ground. He slid on the slippery grass right into Paulo’s ankles, knocking them out from under him as Paulo fell to the ground with a grimace, hands desperately clutching his feet.

“What the fuck,” he heard various teammates yell as they ran over. He sat there next to Paulo, feet tangled with his, wonder what exactly it was that he’d just done. What had _made him do it._ What had made him. Made him _hurt Paulo_.

Paul helped Paulo to his feet as Simone made his way to Alvaro. “Dude, what the fuck,” he repeated, smacking Alvaro on the head. “What the fuck was that?”

“I –“ Alvaro started, but saw Paulo being helped to the side, limping. He got up as quickly as he could and started jogging after them. “Paulo.”

Paulo’s head whipped around and he was – he was _glaring_ at Alvaro, and Alvaro had never, ever, _ever_ , seen that look in Paulo’s eyes. A look of pure _rage_ , of anguish, of so much confusion and suffering. Paulo clenched his jaw. He clenched his fists, one of them around Paul’s bib.

“Strike three,” he said. He turned, pushed Paul aside, and continued walking out on his own.

Paul gave Alvaro a curious but non-judgemental glance before everybody responded to Allegri’s yell to get back into position.

_What happens when I have three strikes?_

_Then you’re not my friend anymore, asshole._

Alvaro knew that had been just a joke, a running gag ever since they’d met, but. But this time, he was pretty sure that this wasn’t just a joke, that Paulo wasn’t just mad because Alvaro had tackled him. Alvaro was suddenly struck by the weight of that statement; the possibility that he couldn’t make this right. That he and Paulo _weren’t friends_.

Alvaro just. He just stood there, on the wrong end of the pitch, staring at Paulo’s tiny silhouette as he went indoors. He felt the entire world crashing down on him. The sides of his vision slowly began to darken. He couldn’t believe this was it. That this was the end, that Paulo had all these pent up frustrations that he had never told Alvaro about but which were all spilling out at once.

The ball bounced off his foot uselessly as someone passed it to him. Alvaro felt like he had lost all control of his senses. He could hear things. He could hear murmurs around him, someone yelling in the background, but that was it. He couldn’t move.

“Alvaro, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he heard Simone say, but only because he was suddenly really close to Alvaro. He hovered around Alvaro for a moment, unsure of his approach, before gently placing a hand on Alvaro’s shoulder. Alvaro jumped, nonetheless. “Hey. Alvaro. Are you feeling okay?”

Alvaro turned to him. His vision was. It was blurry. He blinked a few times but he couldn’t see Simone clearly, and that was when Alvaro realised he was crying.

“Hey,” Simone said kindly, gently nudging Alvaro so he faced away from the rest. “You okay? How’re you feeling?”

Alvaro just stared at him. He couldn’t say anything, not only because he _didn’t know what to say_ but because he _physically couldn’t_. He clenched his fists in a bid to stop their shaking but it didn’t work. He saw Simone wave at the medical staff to come get Alvaro. Alvaro just followed them. There didn’t seem to be anything else he could do.

When they entered the medical room, Paulo was there, being examined.

Alvaro was sat down on one of the beds, a few away from Paulo. He saw Paulo get distracted when Alvaro walked in. He saw Paulo take a quick glance, and then do a double take when he saw Alvaro in fucking _tears_. He saw Paulo half getting up, staring concernedly at Alvaro, as the medical officer left.

He saw Paulo change his mind and sit back down.

The two sat there alone, silently, the atmosphere in the room so hot and suffocating and tense that a needle could pierce it. Alvaro didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t know if he should try and reach out to Paulo and get pushed away again, or just sit where he was and not attempt anything.

When the medical officer returned, Paulo told him the pain was gone and that he could return to training.

And then he left. He left Alvaro sitting there alone without so much as one short glance backwards at him.

It was evident Paulo still cared. _Paulo still cared_. He just didn’t want to.

Alvaro lay down on the bed. When another medical officer came in, he told him he was dizzy. Alvaro closed his eyes and went to sleep, hoping that maybe when he woke up he’d be next to Paulo and everything that had happened the last week had just been this sick nightmare reminding him to cherish what he had with Paulo.

\------

Paulo really wasn’t in the mood to celebrate fucking Christmas.

But it was his first Christmas in Turin, and Gigi had invited everyone to this huge party at his house, so Paulo just couldn’t reject the invitation even if he wanted to. He knew Alvaro would be there. He spent an entire three days before the party thinking of ways to avoid Alvaro. He had been successful for the past couple of days, despite unfortunately being subbed out for Alvaro in their final match against Carpi. All he’d managed to afford Alvaro was to allow him to dive into a hug and a kiss on Paulo’s neck. That had been the complete extent of their interaction ever since the training ground incident.

In the end, Paulo had to admit that there was a big part of him that looked forward to seeing Alvaro at the party.

He missed Alvaro. How could he not? After all, he’d spent the last six years pining for this guy. This same guy, this same asshole who pushed Paulo away, who denied Paulo any real affection, but who Paulo was still so unfailingly in love with. Sure, it was time for Paulo to let go, to stand up for himself. It was time for Alvaro to see how much of a jerk he was being. But despite everything, Alvaro was still Paulo’s best friend in the entire world.

Paulo went to the party alone and stuck by Paul. Which backfired after a while, because Paul was the heart and soul of the party and everyone always gathered around him. Paulo snuck out of the group and hung out by the drinks table instead. That way, at least he could get constant refills.

Alvaro came up to him once or twice, but just stood there quietly, making no attempt to talk to Paulo. Paulo shifted aside, thinking Alvaro just wanted access to the drinks, but. But he didn’t. He just stood there, hovering, like he wanted to talk to Paulo.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro finally said, after like, ten whole minutes of floating around.

Paulo shrugged. He didn’t really know what he had been expecting. And he found himself speechless again, like so many times before when it came to Alvaro, because his heart was thumping so hard against his chest Paulo felt like it might legitimately jump out.

“You, uh,” Alvaro continued. “Feeling okay? About…about everything?”

Paulo turned and stared at him, the affection suddenly transforming into anger. “How dare you fucking ask me that, Alvaro.”

Alvaro opened his mouth to say something, but Gigi was clapping his hands and asking everyone to gather, so Paulo swivelled on his heel away from Alvaro and stormed towards the group, Alvaro following slowly.

In the end, everyone decided to sit in a circle and play _truth or dare_.

Paulo was so confused about how they reached that decision. He thought truth and dare was what teenage girls played at sleepovers, or whatever. Definitely not a room of full-grown men. But he sat down, anyway, thinking maybe this was some sort of tradition or bonding session. He was careful to choose a place that didn’t put him next to or opposite Alvaro.

Gigi got to spin the bottle, because he was everybody’s dad and also because it was his party. The first spin landed on Patrice, who chose truth and answered a question about which national team he would choose to play for if he wasn’t French. He swore the group to secrecy before he was willing to spin the bottle to continue.

The bottle spun for an agonisingly long time. Paulo almost got dizzy staring at it.

When it stopped, it landed on Alvaro.

“Uh,” Alvaro said nervously. He glanced at Paulo but Paulo pretended not to see. He dipped his head as Alvaro said, “Truth.”

Pat smiled a smug smile, like he had it all planned. “Okay,” he said, his cheeks almost bursting with glee. “Have you ever made out with anyone in this room?”

An anticipating hush fell on the entire room, like no one was brave enough to breathe. Everyone seemed to immediately catch on to what was happening. _Every single person._ Paulo caught Paul looking slightly uncomfortable, and Simone just staring at Patrice, wondering if he should step in. But it was evident every single one of them wanted to know the answer, or even actually thought they already knew it. Half of the circle was looking at Alvaro.

The other half was looking at Paulo.

Paulo felt a lump in his throat. He desperately wanted to clear it but he was too afraid to make a sound.

And then, after a long, long silence which made it feel like the room was going to fucking _explode_ from all the pressure in it – Alvaro said, almost inaudibly, “Yes.”

The silence continued for a moment, then the golden question from Leo, “Who?”

“ _One_ question,” Alvaro hissed.

Leo rolled his eyes. Alvaro leaned forward to spin the bottle before anyone could protest.

The bottle landed on a couple of them – Gigi, Andrea, Claudio – without any controversy. And then it was Claudio’s turn to spin the bottle.

The bottle stopped at Paulo.

“There's your answer,” Paulo heard Patrice whisper as he nudged Leo, and then Claudio, who were on either side of him. Paulo wondered if they’d fucking rigged the bottle or whatever, those fucking weirdos.

“Dare,” Paulo said.

Then Claudio leaned over and whispered something into Pat’s ear. It made Pat’s entire face light up as he nodded. Leo’s face did the same when Pat passed on the message.

“I dare you to kiss Alvaro,” Claudio said. “For ten seconds.”

Paulo flinched violently. The entire room seemed to give a collective approving soft sigh. Everyone returned to staring at Alvaro and Paulo again, in the same proportions. Paulo turned to Alvaro. His face was turned towards the ground but he was peering up at Paulo, his eyebrows doing that adorable slanting thing again.

Paulo hated how much he loved Alvaro.

Paulo got on his hands and knees and crawled across the circle to where Alvaro was. He slowly moved his face closer to Alvaro’s and heard Claudio and company inhale sharply in unison.

“Fucking kiss me,” Paulo breathed against Alvaro’s cheeks. He hadn’t been this close to Alvaro since – he couldn’t even remember. All he could remember was the anguish of the past week, fighting with Alvaro, wanting Alvaro to come back but wanting Alvaro to leave him alone at the same time. Paulo wasn’t even sure if he was angry with Alvaro anymore. He was just hurt. He felt a gust as Alvaro gave a little gasp.

“It’s your dare,” Alvaro said, his gaze firmly holding Paulo’s, like he _knew_ Paulo would cave in. That guy had some fucking _nerve_.

Paulo slowly moved until his lips were brushing against Alvaro’s. His heart skipped, before starting to slam violently against his ribcage. His arms began to quiver.

“Doesn't count,” Claudio called. He sounded really far away.

Alvaro closed his eyes and sighed softly against Paulo’s lips. He gently placed his hands on the sides of Paulo’s head and pulled Paulo closer. His hands wandered into Paulo’s hair as Claudio said something that Paulo couldn't hear.

And then they were kissing. Paulo was kissing Alvaro and. And it was exactly how he’d remembered it. Alvaro was just as gentle, just as loving as he had been. His lips were as soft as they had been as they moved in unison with Paulo’s. His hands were just as kind, just as tender, even though Paulo hadn’t talked to or touched Alvaro in days. They moved down and then back up Paulo’s arms, to his shoulders and neck, and found themselves lodged in Paulo’s hair again.

Paulo’s hands slowly worked their way to grasp Alvaro’s shirt, and then his collar, and then finally they, too, were caressing Alvaro’s cheeks, his stubble, his cheekbones, his brow line. And Paulo forgot, he completely forgot that there was a room full of his teammates just. Just watching him make out with Alvaro. He was so utterly, completely _in love_ with Alvaro and the fact that he _couldn't_ have Alvaro, that Alvaro _wouldn’t_ want him that way and would continue to break Paulo’s heart _over and over again_ without getting tired of it – it suddenly didn't matter.

“Time,” Claudio called.

Alvaro’s lips surrounded Paulo’s one last time, and then he pulled away, holding Paulo by the sides of his neck. His gaze was directed at Paulo’s lips, through which heavy breaths were escaping, matching that of Alvaro’s.

It was the longest ten seconds of Paulo’s life. Or the shortest. Paulo couldn't decide.

“That was really hot,” Paul remarked. Leo, Pat, and Claudio nodded in agreement.

Paulo pulled himself out of Alvaro’s grasp and turned to the three of them. He could feel his eyes burning with tears just _waiting_ to fall and he just. He just _couldn't take this._

“Got your answer, yeah?” he said, his voice shaking slightly. He turned to Alvaro. “You too, huh?”

“Paulo –“ Alvaro said, but Paulo stood up and ran out of the room before anyone could continue.  

\------

The entire room fell into a tense silence as Paulo pushed the back door open and disappeared outside.

“So, this is great, huh?” Alvaro asked Patrice. He glared at the now very guilty-looking trio.

“I thought,” Patrice waved his arms around. “Have you two ever. Been in a relationship?”

“No,” Alvaro snapped. He had no idea it would hurt him so much to say that. To admit that him and Paulo had never been in a relationship, even if they had come within millimeters of it more than once.

“But that,” Leo said, gesturing towards where Alvaro was sitting, and then at the space Paulo had just vacated. “That was really something. Like, it definitely wasn’t the first time, yeah?”

“Wasn’t that the answer to your question?” Alvaro demanded.

“They’re not like that,” Paul suddenly said softly, jumping in for Alvaro. He gave Alvaro a tiny glance, an ‘I’ve got you’ glance. “They’re just really close friends.”

“Yeah,” Simone chimed in. It didn’t seem like him at all and Alvaro was momentarily surprised. “I can vouch for that. Stop prying.”

“You guys got all your answers?” Alvaro asked, addressing the whole circle. He was just. He was so _furious_. Furious that his teammates had actually made Paulo do that. “Got any more questions for me? You wanna know how many people I’ve fucked, too? If I’ve fucked anyone in this room?”

“Have you?” Patrice said, but shut up when Claudio gave him a violent elbow. “Sorry.”

“Fuck you all,” Alvaro said, teeth gritted. He stood up and stepped out of the circle. “Fuck you all very much.”

He went to the back door and pushed it open, hoping to see Paulo outside. Hoping that Paulo hadn’t left. Because Alvaro wanted to make things right. He desperately wanted things between him and Paulo to be alright, because God help him, he could live with anything else being fucked up but not this. Not him and Paulo.

Paulo wasn’t on the back porch, but Gigi had a grass patch with two small goalposts in his backyard and Alvaro saw Paulo sitting on the ground and leaning on one of them, facing away from the house. He tried to creep up quietly, but that didn’t work so well in grass. He stopped behind Paulo, trying to come up with something to say. Some magic word, probably, that could make everything okay. But he couldn’t come up with anything. He stood there silently for a couple of minutes before Paulo finally spoke first.

“I’m in love with you,” Paulo whispered without turning around.

Alvaro felt like all the air had suddenly been robbed from him. The dark surroundings began to glow, like Alvaro was on LSD or some shit. And then everything turned blurry, and Alvaro blinked to focus his gaze on Paulo, the back of Paulo’s head, but he couldn’t. His chest began to tighten. His world was crashing down on him again.

“Paulo,” he whispered.

“I’m in love with you, Alvaro,” Paulo repeated, his voice thick and quivering. “I have been for the longest time and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of not knowing if this feeling, this feeling I have in my chest that feels like it’s eating me alive, like a heavy rock with teeth, is what love is supposed to feel like. I’m tired of wondering if love is supposed to hurt like this, if it’s supposed to tear me apart like this. I’m tired of trying to differentiate between when you’re being kind to me and when you’re actually. Actually trying to let me know how you feel. I’m tired of trying to interpret what you’re trying to tell me. You say you want me, but. But I don’t believe you anymore. So, just. It’s simple. How I feel, it’s simple. I’m in love with you. And if you don’t want me, I’d appreciate it if you tell me right now.”

Alvaro stepped forward and placed a hand on Paulo’s shoulder, heart falling when he felt it shaking with sobs. It fell even further when Paulo shook him off again. Alvaro sighed and sat down next to Paulo, careful to leave a reasonable space between them so Paulo wouldn’t flip out again.

“Will you just listen to me?” he asked softly. Paulo nodded, but still refused to turn and make eye contact with Alvaro. “I’m sorry that I get jealous when other people touch you. I’m just. I _need_ to touch you, Paulo, I want to touch you. Your existence…it’s physical proof that good things exist. I can’t help it, I just. I thought you liked it too. I don’t want you to think that it doesn’t mean anything to me, because it does. I never thought about what it meant to you, I only cared about whether you liked it. And…and you did, yeah? I just don’t think that far, you know me, and I never thought about how unfair I was being to you. You were right. I have no right at all. I have no right to be jealous, no right to touch you the way I want, because I‘m the one who has given it up.

“As much as I don’t like, or don’t want to admit it, I’m like you, Paulo. I’ve struggled with this many times, this thing…with guys. With you. Because you…you’re the only guy I’ve ever felt this way for before. I watched you figure it out and I always wonder if I’m strong enough to be like you, but. But I guess it’s just taken me longer to realise that I’m. I’m like this. I don’t know what I am yet, because I don’t like guys, you know that. It’s just you. You’re special.”

Paulo shrugged. “So what does that mean?”

“When I was seventeen, we talked about this, remember? I told you that we couldn’t have all of it at once. And over the years, we always have this same conversation. Nothing has changed, Paulo, nothing at all over these six years. And with you, I feel like nothing will. We will always be like this, the two of us. I want the best for you, Paulo, you know that, and it tears me apart sometimes but I have to give it to you because you deserve it and I don’t want to stand in the way of it.”

“You think…you think you’ll ruin my life, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. “Because if we…if we do this, then. Then there’ll be tons of backlash. From the press, from the fans, our bosses will probably hate us. Paulo, I don’t want to do that to you. I want you to be safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You don’t want to turn my world upside down,” Paulo said.

“Yes,” Alvaro said, suddenly just. Just really relieved that Paulo _got it_.

“What if maybe I want you to?”

Alvaro froze. “You…you _want_ me to turn your world upside down?”

“I do,” Paulo said, finally turning and locking eyes with Alvaro, the first real eye contact since he’d handed Alvaro his third strike. His eyes were still beautiful, still piercing, like a knife right through Alvaro’s soul. “That’s what I’m willing to let you do to me, Alvaro. I’m willing to let you ruin my life. Have you ever thought about that? Have you ever thought…about how much it hurts me to think that you wouldn’t be willing to do the same? To think that…that you aren’t afraid of turning _my_ world upside down. You’re afraid of turning _your own world_ upside down, Alvaro.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro breathed. His chest was contracting on itself, like Paulo was using his hands to press down on it. He hadn’t realised. He hadn’t realised that Paulo was willing to jump in headfirst and Alvaro was just. Alvaro was just loitering between saving himself and treading the relationship line with Paulo – both of which only served to hurt Paulo and benefit himself. “No. No. Paulo, I can’t do that. I can’t do that to you.”

“I want you to,” Paulo sobbed. “I’ve been thinking about it for years. I don’t even fucking _care_. I could just take your hand and run away, run to somewhere far away, and I wouldn’t even care. But you don’t want that, and you continue teasing me and using me and. And I don’t know anymore, Alvaro.”

“Paulo, I – I don’t – I’m sorry,” Alvaro stammered. “I just. I had no idea.”

“Yeah?” Paulo gave a wry smile. “I’ve been good at keeping it in, haven’t I?”

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered, reaching over and curling his fingers around Paulo’s wrist. This time, Paulo didn’t shake him off. “What do you want me to do? Just tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Paulo shook his head. “I don’t need you to do anything for me, Alvaro. I don’t want a relationship with you if _you_ don’t want it. I just want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Alvi. _Everything_ I’ve ever wanted. And you seem really happy now, with Mia, and that’s great. If that’s what you want, that’s really great, honestly, I’m not being spiteful. I would love for you to be happy. Doesn’t matter who you find it with. Doesn’t matter…if it isn’t me.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. He was speechless again. Paulo was just, he was _amazing_ and he was Alvaro’s _best friend_ but Alvaro felt like he could no longer call him that.

“So this,” Paulo pulled his wrist out of Alvaro’s grasp and gestured between them. “This is a no, yeah?”

Alvaro stayed silent. He didn’t know what to _say_. He didn’t want this to be the end. But fuck, he had so many things to think about. He had so many of Paulo’s words to ponder over, so many of Paulo’s thoughts he’d just been bombarded with.

After about five minutes Paulo finally stood up and dusted himself off. “Alvaro, I just. I just really, really need a break, okay?” he whispered. He looked exhausted. “Tell Gigi and the rest I left, please.”

And then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out through the back gate as Alvaro watched, frozen in place. Not because it was fucking freezing outside, but because Alvaro physically couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure where this put him and Paulo, even though he was pretty sure he had a good idea of it. He wanted to get up and go after Paulo. He wanted to hug Paulo and tell Paulo he loved him, tell Paulo that in this entire world, Paulo was the only one he wanted. But Paulo was also the only one he would never be able to get, because of how their lives were going.

Alvaro sat there until Paul came outside and found him. He sat next to Alvaro and gently placed his hand on Alvaro’s shoulder.

And Alvaro just. He fucking _broke down_. He burst into tears, tears that were hot and cold at the same time, his chest pounding so hard it could probably power its own windmill. He felt reality slip away from him, just like how his breaths were. He felt himself shaking, shaking with fear and despondence as it hit him that Paulo had left. _Paulo had left_.

He let Paul wrap him up in a warm hug. He let Paul whisper into his ear, probably kind words which went in one ear and out the other, because he couldn’t hear what they were.

All he could hear was himself whispering desperately, over and over and over again, “He’s gone, it’s over. He’s gone, it’s over. He’s gone, it’s over.”


	29. Boy When You Know, You'll Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite hero Franco saves the day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that the playlist is meant to be played in the order I've put the songs in - I've tried to make it happy at the two ends and mellow in the middle, idk if it worked, but yeah haha. Again I hope you guys like it! Thank you also for your wonderful comments, I appreciate them all very much and I hope you guys enjoy this last stretch :)
> 
> Title is from Fire And The Flood by Vance Joy.

The very first thing Paulo did after that party, while he still had his fucking _sanity_ – was to fly to Palermo.

He went home to his mom, who for the life of her couldn’t figure out why Paulo was so upset. Paulo wouldn’t say. He just curled up in her lap and babbled to himself, and she held him and listened to him even though she couldn’t understand.

“Who hurt you?” she whispered, the same question she’d been asking for quite some time. “Tell me, Paulo, baby, tell me who hurt you.”

“It’s over,” Paulo gasped. “It’s done, and – and –“

“What’s done?” she ran her fingers soothingly through Paulo’s hair. “Hmm?”

“Mom, I love him. I really, really love him.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, Paulo, look. You’ll get through this. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I won’t,” Paulo said, truly believing that he _wouldn’t_. It was _Alvaro._ Paulo would never be able to get through this. “I shouldn’t have gone to Turin, mom, I should’ve just stayed here. Everything I love is here. Everything I care for. I thought being close to him would be better for us but I was wrong, mom, I love him and he doesn’t love me back, and I thought he did, but he doesn’t, and – and mom. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know.”

And Paulo’s mom just held on to him tightly, evidently not understanding what the fuck he was sobbing on about. She wrapped Paulo up lovingly even though she was tiny, and she fed Paulo little sips of water when he took a break from crying.

“Have you ever loved someone so much it hurt?” Paulo whispered. He felt like he was drifting. Maybe he was falling asleep. But he couldn’t tell. His eyes were practically glued shut with tears.

Mom nodded, a sad smile on her face. “Sometimes that’s how love reminds you that you’re alive.”

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

“I don’t know, Paulo. We all love in different ways.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said, and then proceeded to burst into tears all over again. “He doesn’t want me.”

“It’s his loss, yeah, Paulo?” she swept Paulo’s hair off his forehead. “You’ll find someone new. Someone who loves you like you deserve to be loved.”

But oh, Paulo had been _trying_ to find someone new all these years. He had tried and tried and _failed_. He was _never going to find someone_ he loved as much as he loved Alvaro.

“Mom, you love me, yeah?” Paulo finally asked.

Mom burst into soft laughter. “Of course, Paulo. You’ll always have me.”

Paulo fell asleep that night feeling safe in his mom’s arms; in the arms of the only constant in his life.

\------

Once Alvaro got his shit together, the first person he could think of to call was Isco.

His teammates had called him to apologise. All of them, one by one, and some of them multiple times. He didn’t know if they’d called Paulo, too. _He_ had called Paulo. Paulo hadn’t answered one of his calls.

“You’re an idiot, man,” was the first thing Isco said after Alvaro was done rambling, largely incoherently, to him.

“I am,” Alvaro sobbed. “I am.”

“You love him,” Isco said. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, the first time he had actually admitted it out loud. Well, sort of admitted it out loud. “I do, yeah.”

“Then why don’t you tell him?”

“I can’t, okay?” Alvaro said. “I can’t take his life into my hands like that, Isco, you know me, I’ll ruin it in an instant. Paulo…Paulo deserves the best. He deserves the _very best_ and that’s _not me_ , okay?”

“It is to him,” Isco said quietly. He sounded. He sounded more thoughtful than Alvaro had ever heard him. “You’re _everything_ to him, Alvaro. Doesn’t matter if you don’t think the same.”

“No,” Alvaro said. “No. I can’t. What about Mia?”

Isco went silent for a few moments, then, “Alvaro, you do you, okay? I can’t tell you what to do. Remember when you asked me what to do and I told you I had an idea what you should do, but I couldn’t tell you because I was worried it’d ruin your life?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s still like that,” Isco said. “I can’t tell you what to do. All I can tell you is, I have never known Paulo that well but I know one thing, and that is you two love each other. And you two…you could be magical, you know? You two could…you could go out and light up the entire world. You already _have_. You could…you could light up _each other’s_ world. I know you will. It’s just. I don’t know, Alvaro, I don’t know why you’re still fighting this. You’re not being fair to Paulo. Fuck, you’re not being fair to _Mia_.”

“It’s more than just this, you know?” Alvaro sobbed. “My life. It’s more than just a yes or no to Paulo. What about Mia? How could I…I love Mia, too.”

“Do you? Or are you just using her to compensate for the fact that you can’t have what you want? Are you just…just being with her because you want to convince yourself that you’re normal, that your life is normal?”

“Fuck you, being gay is not abnormal.”

Isco laughed softly. He sounded a little…proud. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“You’re not helping,” Alvaro said, frustrated. “I’m not scared.”

“You are. You’re a coward,” Isco said, and then proceeded to hang up on Alvaro.

Alvaro spent the rest of the day sitting there and thinking about what a disaster his life was.

\------

Paulo floated his way to Franco’s place again.

He ran straight into Franco’s arms once Franco opened the door. Franco barely even had time to open his arms before Paulo crashed straight into him.

“You’re one clingy little fucker, aren’t you?” Franco whispered into Paulo’s hair.

“Franco,” Paulo sobbed. “Franco.”

And that was when Franco realised Paulo was crying. Well, blame Paulo for not even letting Franco look at him before he completely knocked Franco’s breath out of him. He brought Paulo over to the couch and sat him down. “Hey,” he said, slightly worried. He grasped Paulo’s chin and made Paulo look at him. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered. He was out of breath, like he was having a panic attack at how _real_ this entire thing was now that he was going to say it out loud. “We’re done. Me and Alvaro.”

“Why?” Franco asked. “What did he do to you? Tell me what he did to you, I’ll fuck his life –“

“It’s not him,” Paulo interrupted, gaze now directed downwards again. “It’s me. You were right, Franco, you were right and I shouldn’t love him. I should have…I should have stopped this a long time ago. It’s been six years, Franco. Six years too long. He’s never wanted me in the first place.”

“Paulo,” Franco whispered. He wrapped Paulo up in a tight hug. “Don’t say that. I didn’t mean it, you know? I only said that because he was being an asshole. I’d love for you two to be together.”

“But we aren’t. And we aren’t going to be.”

“What did he say? What did he do?”

“Nothing, I,” Paulo sighed. “He didn’t do anything. It was me. I told him I was done waiting around for him if he isn’t going to do anything, just going to…going to play with me like this. And then. And then I left. I haven’t spoken to him.”

“Paulo, you have to stop defending him.”

“I know,” Paulo said desperately, collapsing into Franco’s arms. “I know. I know.”

“Okay, okay, shh,” Franco whispered. “You’re going to be fine. You don’t need him.”

“Vazquez, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not believing you.”

“No, look, I know you love him,” Franco smiled. “I’ve always known. He’s just never shown me he’s worthy of it, you know? But it’s what you see in him that matters, yeah? Doesn’t matter if I think he’s a pussy and a coward and a jackass. Which he is, by the way. Fucking Morata, can’t even gather his balls enough to tell you the truth.”

“Franco,” Paulo said, and he was crying again, and fuck. Franco hated seeing him this way. Paulo was one of the strongest people he knew, one of the most determined and the most lionhearted. He couldn’t have a breakdown like this. “I wish I’d never met him. I wish I’d never met Alvaro.”

“You can’t say that,” Franco said softly. “He means a lot to you, yeah?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore.”

Franco sighed, simultaneously proud of Paulo for finally standing up for himself and heartbroken for both Paulo and Alvaro. _And_ helpless, because what could he even do to help Paulo? He desperately wanted to.

“Everything will be okay,” he eventually said. “Yeah, Dybala? You’ll always be okay.”

“Franco, help me,” Paulo breathed, clinging on to Franco’s t-shirt. “You know how to help me. You’ve always known. You’ve always known how to make it better.”

“You want me to…” Franco started, grasping Paulo by the shoulders so he could see Paulo’s face. “To…”

Paulo nodded, tears still steadily streaming down his face. “Just. Just fuck me until I forget everything.”

“You sure?”

“This is all I’ve ever known,” Paulo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s all I’ve ever known.”

So Franco brought Paulo to his bedroom and. And made Paulo forget. It was everything Paulo had ever known – and it was everything _Franco_ had ever known, too, ever since they’d met. The one big main way they could solve each other’s problems was this. It was sex.

“You sure?” Franco asked again as Paulo pulled him on top.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “I need this. Please.”

“You’re upset. I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you.”

“Just make me forget. Please.”

So Franco did, he got back into the rhythm that he and Paulo knew so well, that he and Paulo _still_ knew so well despite not regularly engaging in it for the most part of six months. After three years, it’d just become instinct. He still knew what Paulo liked. Paulo still knew what he liked.

“You doing good, yeah?” Franco whispered when they were finally doing the deed, his face buried in Paulo’s neck as Paulo tilted it for better access. Paulo’s eyes were closed, like they had always been whenever he was doing it with Franco. “You’ll do good, Dybala. Always have. Always will.”

“Hold me down,” was Paulo’s, well, very demanding reply. But Franco was okay with it. It meant Paulo was forgetting.

Franco pinned Paulo down by his shoulders, watching as Paulo pressed himself harder into the mattress. He felt Paulo start to forget. He felt Paulo start to feel this thoroughly, and he saw the frustration on Paulo’s face slowly give way to satisfaction, and. And this was his job done, helping Paulo pretend everything was okay.

He thrust himself until he nailed Paulo’s prostate, evident by the way Paulo suddenly arched his back off the bed. “Fuck,” Paulo muttered, emphasis on the ‘k.’ “Fuck. Yes. It’s right here, you’ve got it, Alvaro. Alvaro. You’ve got it.”

Franco felt his hips stutter. Sure, he’d long known that Paulo pictured himself having sex with Alvaro when he was doing it with Franco. But that was one thing. Actually _hearing it_ was another.

Franco realised he had never seen a love as pure as Paulo’s love for Alvaro.

Even in this state of heartache, in this state of uncertainty, in this _complete mess of a situation_ , all Paulo wanted was still crystal clear, it was still the same – he wanted Alvaro.

Paulo thrust his hips anxiously upwards, telling Franco not to stop. As if any break, any tiny little break in this rhythm, no matter how minute, would bring Paulo back to the painful reality he was so desperately trying to avoid.

So Franco continued. He continued pounding Paulo the way Paulo liked, the way Paulo liked imagining Alvaro was. He continued letting Paulo gasp Alvaro’s name with every other thrust, and soon his hips stopped stuttering every time he heard himself being called Alvaro. He leaned over and kissed the sobs out of Paulo when Paulo started to cry.

“Am I hurting you?” he murmured.

“No,” Paulo whispered. “You could never hurt me.”

Franco smiled. He didn’t know if Paulo still thought he was Alvaro or. Or if Paulo knew he was Franco. But either way, Franco knew it was true. Even though Alvaro _had_ hurt Paulo, Paulo could never see it that way. He could never see Alvaro as anything other than the best.

“Yeah,” Franco said, one hand wandering up Paulo’s arm to hold him down by the wrist and the other moving to jerk Paulo off. “Yeah.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered, dispelling any of Franco’s doubts. He gave a shiver, like a jolt of electricity had just shot through his body. A single tear fell from the side of his closed eyes. “Alvaro, I love you.”

And then Paulo came all over Franco’s hand, hips lifting off the bed, little breathless gasps of ‘Alvi, Alvi, Alvi’ escaping his lips. Franco let go of Paulo’s wrist, letting Paulo’s hands wander freely, grasping at nothing, until he finally calmed down. He didn’t open his eyes.

Franco collapsed by Paulo’s side once he’d finished himself. He swept Paulo’s sweaty hair out of his forehead. He didn’t dare to speak a word, didn’t dare to burst Paulo’s peaceful bubble.

When Paulo finally opened his eyes again, they were still sad. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No, hey,” Franco said, gently nudging Paulo’s cheek. “Don’t have to be. It’s cool. I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo said again. “I…I didn’t mean –“

“No, really, it’s fine,” Franco stopped him. He didn’t want Paulo to slip back into reality so quickly. “Close your eyes. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. Okay?”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered as Franco pulled him into a hug.

“Yeah,” Franco breathed, gently pecking the top of Paulo’s head. “You’ll be okay. You’re too fucking stubborn not to be.”

He felt Paulo smile against his clavicle. He held Paulo until Paulo finally stopped shaking, until he finally fell asleep.

\------

Alvaro’s phone started ringing persistently although he had ignored it like, seven times. He thought it was his teammates, calling again. He thought it was Simone, being concerned again about Alvaro. He thought it was Paul, wanting to know if Paulo had called. He thought it might’ve been Isco, calling to let him know, again, what an asshole he was. And Alvaro was in no mood to talk to any of these people.

Imagine how surprised he was when he took a look at the screen and saw that it was Franco.

He picked the phone up, finger hovering over the green call button. Franco had never called him before; fuck, Franco had barely even _spoken_ to Alvaro unless he really, really had to.

Before Alvaro could make up his mind, the call ended.

And then it started again, and _God_ , this man was persistent. Alvaro tapped the green button and put the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he said hesitantly.

“God, what would it take you to pick up your fucking phone?” was Franco’s greeting.

“What do you want?”

“You broke Paulo,” Franco said accusingly.

“I…what?” Alvaro said. He sat up, surprised and anxious and. And his heart beating a million beats per second. “What?”

“Paulo. He came here and he couldn’t stop crying and babbling about you.”

“He’s with you?” Alvaro asked, just. Just desperate to grab any little piece of information about Paulo he could get his fucking hands on. “How is he? He won’t take my calls.”

“He’s asleep now, finally, thank God,” Franco said. “Morata, you have no idea.”

“Asleep?” Alvaro repeated. He was suddenly. Suddenly filled with a familiar rage. A familiar _jealousy_. “Did you guys…?”

Franco gave an impatient huff. “Yes, we did, Morata. We’re fuck buddies, that’s what we do.”

Alvaro clenched his fist so he wouldn’t fucking throw the phone across the room. He felt hot tears blur his vision. “So you called to tell me that?” Alvaro demanded. “Cheap shot, Vazquez.”

“I didn’t,” Franco said softly. “Look. Morata. I’m not calling to gloat. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I called because I want to talk to you about…about this.”

“About what?” Alvaro asked. He was all-out sobbing and well, it was _embarrassing_. “About how it’s over? You’re glad, aren’t you?”

“Morata, will you just shut the fuck up and listen to me?”

“What?” Alvaro whispered. He was just. He was tired. He didn’t even care what kind of blow Franco was going to deal him this time.

“He said your name,” Franco said, more gently than Alvaro had ever heard him speak. “While we were…yeah. He said your name. It’s the first time he’s done that, he’s never done it before. I know he pictures you when he, you know, has sex. But with me, he’s never done this, he’s never called your name.”

“What?” Alvaro said again. He closed his eyes as tears began to fall from them. “He said. He said my name?”

“Well, your name is Alvaro, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. He couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t believe he’d just let Paulo go like that. “No. He couldn’t have done that. He left. He left me.”

“Doesn’t mean he stopped loving you.”

“He pictures me when he has sex?” Alvaro asked. That was, well. Kind of hot. But it also explained _a lot of things_.

“Yeah,” Franco said. “He really, really loves you.”

“I love him, too,” Alvaro said. The first time he’d actually said those words out loud, and it was to fucking _Franco Vazquez_. “So, so much.”

“Are you still with your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. Mia had been hovering around him carefully the past few days, not understanding why he was so upset. And he couldn’t possibly _tell her_ , so. Wow, Alvaro was a bitch.

“You’re a bitch,” Franco confirmed.

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “I know. I know.”

“You know, one thing I’ve never understood about you is how you could be so fucking _clueless_ ,” Franco continued. “Paulo is…Paulo is yours. He has _always been_. He's yours, but. But you've never owned him because you've never wanted to, you've never just grabbed the chance that was sitting in front of you, that has been sitting in front of you for the longest time. He's yours not because you slept with him that one time – it’s not because you had sex with him once. If that’s the case then he’s not just yours, he’s also mine and various other men’s, a million times over. It’s not because of that. _He has always been yours,_ Morata, because he _loves you_ , and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. But he does, and he’s so incredibly patient and forgiving with you even though you’ve let him down time after time and you’ve left him hanging more than once.”

“I'm sorry,” Alvaro sobbed, although he had nothing to be sorry about to _Franco._ “I don't know what to do.”

“He has loved you since long before I met him, Morata,” Franco said tenderly. “And I’ve been so mean not because I don't approve of it. I have _no right_ to disapprove, don't you see? I’ve just hoped that one day you'll see it, that one day you'll stop being a total, complete _idiot_ and see that Paulo and you are _meant to be together._ ”

“But what if…what if everything gets screwed up? What if our lives, our football. It all gets fucked up?”

Franco gave a long exaggerated sigh. “You still don't get it, do you? Paulo is _willing to do that._ He's willing to change his entire fucking life for you, Morata, because he thinks you’re _worth it_. And to him, now you're the one who’s afraid, the one who’s so desperately heterosexual – not that it's a bad thing – and so completely in denial. Do you know what message this sends? That _you don't love him,_ Morata, that he’s _not worth it_. That's the message you're sending.”

“But I do. And he is,” Alvaro sobbed, the feeling tearing him apart starting from the hole in his chest that Paulo had left.

“So why are you so scared of ruining your life? You're not scared of ruining _his._ You're scared of ruining your own.”

“My life is already ruined,” Alvaro whispered. Because it was true. With or without Paulo, Alvaro felt equally pathetic. Pathetic because he wasn't brave enough to jump into this. Pathetic because as a result, he never got what he wanted.

“Yeah, Dybala does that, doesn't he?” Franco gave an affectionate chuckle. “Alvaro. You're lucky. You're figuring this out while you have someone by you, while you have Paulo, who fucking _loves you to bits,_ may I remind you, helping you figure it out. Some people aren't that lucky. I wasn't that lucky while I was figuring out my sexuality. And you know Paulo wasn't. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back, and for six years? Fuck, Morata, I don’t know how Paulo did it. I know you're afraid of turning your life upside down. I get that. But…but you have Paulo. Alvaro, if you don't try this out, you'll _never know._ And I know you're scared but to _let Paulo go_ just because you're scared? Is it worth it? I'm not forcing you to make a decision here, but. But just think about it.”

“But I,” Alvaro stammered. “I don’t know. Franco, I don’t know. I don't know why Paulo…Paulo is being like this.”

“What do you not know? Don’t you get what I’m saying?” Franco said. He sounded so. So _patient_. He had never sounded this kind to Alvaro before. When Alvaro didn’t respond, Franco continued, “Morata, look. If I told you I was going to give you and your team a World Cup trophy and call you the champions of the world, you’d be happy, yeah? It’s the biggest honour in the world. You’d be happy that I told you that, and you’d be looking forward to getting it?”

“Yeah.”

“And what if you waited for like, three months, and the trophy never came? And I act like, like I’d never told you about it at all? How would you have felt in that three months, and how would you have felt towards me?”

“That you were lying,” Alvaro whispered, trying to keep his sobs quiet. “That you lied to me, and I spent three months waiting for nothing when I thought I was waiting for something.”

“Exactly, Morata. You’d be angry. That’s why Paulo is angry. You’ve been telling him you’re giving him that trophy, and in the end you don’t.”

“But Paulo liked it. He liked me…telling him.”

“God, Morata, you’re stupid,” Franco sighed. “Okay. You love this trophy, yeah? You want this trophy. You’d like to hold it. And all your life, you’ve been looking forward to holding this trophy. But you also know that after all that you've done for it, you might never get it. Would you rather have heard from me that you’d surely get it, and start believing me, start getting really excited to hold it and preparing for the moment? Or would you rather not get your hopes up, and have me shut the fuck up, and if the trophy doesn’t come, then you’d be fine because you hadn’t even been expecting it?”

“I’d rather you didn’t tell me,” Alvaro said, and then. And then the realization hit him like a fucking truck. “Oh. Oh.”

“You’ve got it,” Franco said softly. “Yeah? You’ve got it now.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro sobbed. “Yeah, no. Yeah.”

“What?” Franco asked. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

“What am I going to do?” Alvaro whispered. This epiphany was about to fucking eat him alive. He clutched at one of his couch cushions to stop himself from shaking. _He wanted Paulo back._ “What am I going to do?”

“You can make it right,” Franco said. “You still can. I know you always can, because –“

“Because Paulo loves me,” Alvaro finished in a weak whisper.

“Yeah,” Franco said. Alvaro could sense his proud smile, and okay. This sort of pride from Franco to Alvaro made Alvaro feel strangely accomplished.

“Why does he…why does he love me?” Alvaro sobbed, because fuck. He suddenly. He suddenly didn’t know anything. It was like a new little pocket of the universe had suddenly opened to let Alvaro in on the true mess he had created. “I’m a jerk. I’ve hurt him so much and. And I didn’t even know it. I’m a fucking asshole, Franco, but Paulo loves me and. And I don’t deserve it.”

“You’re his best friend, Alvaro,” Franco gave a soft chuckle. “Have been for the longest time. He’s cared for you for the longest time. I don’t think he knows how to stop caring for you. It’s just, I don’t know, man. The way you make him feel, I guess. He’s always smiling when he talks about you. Even though you hurt him and he’s sad. He’s always happy when he talks about you, and he has this super proud look in his eyes, and they’re all glazed over and crazy like he’s a murderer but like, with _love,_ and God, I cringe sometimes, but. But it’s just that. It’s how you make him feel. Sorry, man, I suck at this nonsense.”

“I don’t deserve him.”

“That’s not up to you to decide,” Franco said. “And Alvaro. You love him, yeah?”

“I do.”

“So go and make this right,” Franco said encouragingly, and fuck. Alvaro could see why Paulo liked him so much. “Right now, all Paulo thinks of this…relationship or whatever you two have, is that it’s built on empty promises. All these words used to mean something to him, Alvaro, but now they don’t. They’re just words. So fucking _show him,_ okay?”

“How?” Alvaro asked, and when Franco made this extremely frustrated sound, said, “Okay, okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll get him on a plane back to Turin, okay? I’ll take him home to his mom, and I’ll have him pack and I’ll put him on the plane and make sure he goes back to Turin. Yeah?”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. “Hey, Franco. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Franco said softly. “Look, I’m sorry I was so mean to you. I just think. I just think Paulo deserves better than to sit around moping his entire life away, okay? It’s not you personally.”

“I know,” Alvaro sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, too. You always saw it, you always knew what was going on and. And yeah. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah,” Franco said again. “Just, Alvaro. If you decide to go through with this, I just want you to know I'll always have your back, yeah? People are gonna talk, but. I'll be here. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered. “Thank you. Paulo really looks up to you, you know? He really trusts you a lot. And now I can see why.”

“Yeah?” Franco laughed. “Thanks. Talk to you soon,” he said, and then hung up.

Alvaro burst into tears again immediately after putting down the phone. He couldn’t believe this, that everything he’d thought, everything he’d _ever known_ , was wrong. He couldn’t believe he had been so blind, so _blind and stupid_ , and in the end, it’d cost him Paulo. His Paulo.

A huge part of Alvaro wondered if the faith Franco put in him was blind. If all the leverage Franco had for believing in Alvaro was the fact that Paulo used to love him. Alvaro wasn’t sure anymore. After what had happened at the party, Alvaro wasn’t sure anymore. Paulo was…Paulo. If he’d set his mind on being completely done with Alvaro, there was a good chance he _would be_ , and nothing Alvaro did would be able to undo that.

After what seemed like minutes but was in fact two hours, Alvaro received a text from Franco containing the details of Paulo’s flight. _On our way back to his mom’s now_ , Franco had added.

 _Thank you,_ Alvaro typed. _Help me take care of him._

 _Always have been, Morata_ , came the immediate reply.

Alvaro tossed his phone aside, tears stinging the back of his eyes again. He felt so. So _empty_. He had never felt empty when it came to Paulo. Paulo had always given him everything he had.

And Alvaro had never once returned it.

He had never returned it, and what was worse, he’d always left a mess for Paulo to pick up. A mess for Franco. Hell, he even created a mess for Isco.

He reached for his phone again and called Isco. “What the fuck, are you _crying_?” was the first thing Isco said upon taking Alvaro’s call.

“Shut up,” Alvaro sobbed. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What’s wrong?” Isco asked kindly. Everyone seemed particularly kind to Alvaro that day. He wondered if it was because he was being so utterly _pathetic_ or. Or they had always been that way and Alvaro was just fucking blind, like he was beginning to realise. “Hey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m a jerk,” Alvaro whispered, suddenly hit again by realization. “I’m a jerk. I’m a fucking asshole.”

“I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Isco said. “You okay? Why don’t you come back to Madrid, be with your family?”

Alvaro had been thinking of doing that, actually – but that was before everything happened with Paulo. Right then, he couldn’t leave Turin. He couldn’t leave Turin because.

”I’m going to talk to Paulo,” Alvaro said, suddenly just. Just so enlightened. So refreshed. So _determined_. “I’m going to tell him that…that I love him, and I want to be with him, and he makes me so much less afraid just because. Just because he’s him. And that I’m sorry for making him wait because he means the _fucking world_ to me and. And if the entire universe turns against us, I know I’ll always have him, and all the people who support us; Paul, Simo, the entire team, _Franco,_ you…yeah? You? I just, before I do it, I just need to know that…that you’d be okay with it.”

“That’s my boy,” Isco said proudly. “And of course. I’d be honoured. It’s about fucking time, Alvaro.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered. “I can do this, yeah? Do you think I can do this?”

“There’s not a sliver of doubt in my mind,” Isco said, and fuck. Alvaro didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this with all the bad karma he had racked up for himself. He didn’t deserve to be surrounded by all these supportive people but. But he was. And now he was going to return all their faith.

He was going to make things right, first with Mia and then with Paulo. He was going to make it up to Paulo for being so reckless with Paulo’s heart. He was going to tell Paulo, finally, for the first time of many more, that _he loved Paulo_ , and that he didn’t care. He didn’t care about what was going to happen next. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the world threw at him as long as he had Paulo. He was going to give Paulo the _best_ , give Paulo everything Paulo deserved – if Paulo would still have him.


	30. Please Don't Try So Hard To Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5.

The first thing Paulo wanted to do when he landed in Turin was drink himself sick.

Besides Franco Vazquez, fuck buddy from Palermo, the only other thing Paulo knew would always help was getting drunk. Sure, he’d made horrible decisions more than once while he was drunk, but. But it was one of the only ways he could escape.

And gay bars. Gay bars were like killing two birds with one stone. Maybe Paulo could get drunk _and_ fucked silly by a rebound so he could completely forget everything that had happened the past week.

He texted Franco a simple ‘landed’ and headed outside, cap pulled over his face, to get a cab.

\------

The gay bar ended up backfiring on Paulo.

He was approached by guys, of course; Paulo had always been like that. He had never left a gay bar disappointed. But on that day, he just. He just _couldn’t_. The feeling of some random dude rubbing up against him only served to make him nauseous when it would’ve previously made him hard. Some other guy’s lips on his, urgently trying to kiss arousal out of Paulo, only served as a reminder that he still had the taste of Alvaro on his lips from two days before. And the murmurs of ‘let’s get a room’ into Paulo’s ear only jolted him back into the reality that there was only one person in this entire world he ever wanted to spend the night with.

It didn’t work. Nothing was working.

Paulo ended up parked at the bar, bartender told to keep the drinks coming. Anything would do for Paulo. Anything that could make him drunk. Anything that made sure he was so fucking wasted by the end of the night that when tomorrow came, the only pain he felt would be in his head and not his heart.

By the end of the night Paulo had tried every single drink on the menu, some of them more than once. He’d struck up a good conversation with the bartender, although he couldn’t really hear what he was saying. It didn’t really make any sense to him, but the bartender was nice and tried to reply him, so. Paulo wondered if maybe the bartender was a good shot. He was laughed kindly at when he asked if the bartender was single. Maybe they made out for a while. Paulo didn’t remember.

And this. This worked. Paulo was on a high, higher than he had ever been. He was happy. He was giggling his fucking face off. He hadn’t puked. Maybe because the kind bartender had unsweetened all his drinks and tried to stuff some food down his throat. Or maybe even switched all his drinks for plain water. Paulo couldn’t tell anymore. His job was only to swallow and hope it did something to his body.

Soon Paulo was so fucking drunk he started to enjoy the random guys approaching him again. He almost left the bar with one, but. But he was suddenly so dizzy and confused and. And he _couldn’t stop giggling_. He was so fucking tired.

Paulo took one last swig of his drink and slumped over the bar. He was so tired. Not just physically, but. But he was tired of everything, and strangely only in that complete state of drunkenness did it actually fully hit Paulo how _done_ he was. He just. He didn’t care anymore.

\------

Alvaro was at Paulo’s door before Paulo’s flight had even landed. He sat on Paulo’s stoop, determined not to miss Paulo when he came home.

But Paulo didn’t return home even when it was ten pm, six hours after his flight had landed.

 _Where are you?_ Alvaro texted to Paulo, on the off-chance that Paulo actually decided to reply him.

Thirty minutes later there was no reply.

 _Does anyone have Paulo at your place?_ Alvaro texted the Juve group chat – but everyone replied, one after another, variations of no and that they weren’t even in Turin. Alvaro got several concerned private texts from Paul and Simone, but. But he shut them. He couldn’t deal with them without knowing where Paulo was.

 _Paulo hasn’t come home_ , he texted Franco. In return, he received a screenshot of Paulo’s text conversation with Franco, the simple message of ‘landed’ sent at 4.13pm.

 _Maybe he went to clear his head,_ was the accompanying message. _Give him some time. He’ll be fine._

And well, at that point in time, no one knew Paulo better than Franco. Not even Alvaro. So Alvaro believed him. He waited another fifteen minutes before he got up and went to his car. Mia was getting off work really late and Alvaro had been intending to give her a ride.

Alvaro thought maybe it was time he told her the truth.

Mia met him with this big smile on her face like she was really touched he drove all the way out there to get her, and. And Alvaro just. How did he ever have the heart to do this? To be in a relationship with Mia, to _stay_ in a relationship with Mia, to _lie to himself_ about why he wanted Mia around – to restore some sense of normalcy, like Isco had said – and to be so stupid, so blind, and so _heartless_ to be in this relationship even though he knew from day one that he was in love with someone else?

And Mia was an amazing girl, which made everything so much worse. Mia was the perfect girl. She had been since day one. Alvaro would’ve given her the entire world if he could. But he’d realised that there was someone else whose hands his entire world was in.

“How was your day?” Mia asked after ten minutes of the silent car ride. When Alvaro turned to her, she was smiling. “What did you do?”

“It was, um,” Alvaro started, but realised he had nothing to say. “Hey, do you want to eat something?”

“Sure,” Mia said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He drove to the nearest fast food place and got the both of them burgers. They parked along an empty street and sat silently in the car, chewing quietly.

“Is anything wrong?” Mia asked.

“Mia,” Alvaro whispered. He put his food down. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?” Mia asked. She sounded worried. She put all the food back in their bags and turned in her seat. “What is it?”

And. And Alvaro had no idea how to approach this. He had no _reason_. He had no reason to break up with Mia because she was so kind and so supportive and so understanding. The only reason he had was – it was that he loved Paulo, and not her.

A couple of minutes of tense silence passed. Mia reached over and took Alvaro’s hands in hers, squeezing gently, but that only served to quicken Alvaro’s heart, only served to make Alvaro even more afraid. It only served as another reminder what a complete, utter _asshole_ he had been for the past year. For the _past six years_.

And then, as fate would have it, Alvaro’s phone started ringing. He slid his hands out of Mia’s and fished his phone out of his pocket.

Paulo’s name flashed on the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” Alvaro whispered. His hands had started fucking _shaking_ , and Mia was just staring at him with this perplexed look on her face and. And Alvaro felt like maybe the universe was ambushing him as a form of punishment. He pressed the call button and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, Paulo, where are you? I’ve been so worried.”

“Um, hi,” a voice said. A voice that wasn’t Paulo’s. And Alvaro was just. He was suddenly hit by this strong gust of non-existent wind. Was this. Was this one of Paulo’s hook-ups? While Alvaro was sitting on his stoop, worrying for _six whole hours_ , had Paulo been fucking around with some dude? Alvaro clenched his free hand instinctively, until the guy said, “Is this, um, Alvaro?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, okay, great,” the guy said, sounding relieved. “Uh, your friend, Paulo? He’s here in our bar. He’s completely blacked out on our bar counter, tried waking him up but he won’t, and um, we’re closing and I have to get him out. Are you nearby? You’re on his speed dial, I can’t get anyone else ‘cause I can’t unlock his phone.”

And fuck, Alvaro didn’t _care_ if it was nearby. Even if it was in fucking _France_ , Alvaro would still go over there and get Paulo. Thankfully, when he got the address it wasn’t in France. It was only a fifteen-minute drive away.

And it was a gay bar.

Alvaro hesitated for a moment after hanging up the call. He had never been to a gay bar. And Mia was in the car with him, and Alvaro was sure _she_ had never been to a gay bar. What were gay bars like, anyway? Did Alvaro have to walk down some creepy alley to get in? Was there some sort of code? _What if someone saw him?_

A couple of moments later Mia shook him. “What happened?”

“Um, I, um,” Alvaro stammered. “I have to go get Paulo.”

“Where?”

“Uh,” Alvaro said. “I’ll take you home first.”

“No, it’s okay, is it urgent? I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Alvaro said. _I don’t want you to_.

“Come on,” Mia said. “Let’s go get Paulo.”

So Alvaro started driving, he drove all the way across the city and into the heart of the most complex side roads, almost all the way to the Juventus stadium. Mia looked confused until Alvaro pulled up outside of the bar. It wasn’t even in some side alley. It looked perfectly normal. Like visiting these places was completely normal.

Alvaro realised that it _was_ normal.

“He’s, um,” Mia waved her hand in the direction of the passenger window. Now instead of confused, she just looked. She just looked shell-shocked. “Inside?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “I should have brought you home. I’m sorry.”

“No, I just,” Mia said softly. “Didn’t know he was gay.”

“He’s bi,” Alvaro said. He dropped his hands from the steering wheel to his lap so Mia wouldn’t see them shaking.

“Oh.”

“Stay here, yeah?” Alvaro said, opening the door and stepping out. “Lock the doors. Open them for me when I’m back.”

“Yeah,” Mia said with a smile.

Alvaro stopped outside the entrance. Even at that particular moment, when he was already _there_ , practically one foot into the establishment – Alvaro still wasn’t sure if he wanted to go inside. His heart was fucking _pounding_ and Alvaro was. Alvaro was scared. He had to admit he was scared.

He stood there for what seemed like a long time just. Just thinking. This was what Paulo’s life was like. Gay bars, getting so wasted he forgot who he was. Constantly afraid if he should take the first step and fall down a slippery slope. Constantly wondering if this was who he _was_.

And Alvaro had done this to him. Alvaro had done all of this to him.

When Alvaro finally stepped inside, the place was almost empty. There were a few drunk patrons stumbling their way out and like, making out and stuff. Servers were cleaning tables.

And Paulo was slumped over the bar like Alvaro had been told, but now he was like, twenty percent awake and babbling away at the poor bartender.

Alvaro approached them slowly. “Um, hi,” he said when he was close enough. “I’m Alvaro. Uh, I’m here to get him.”

The bartender smiled and made a ‘he’s all yours’ gesture before leaving. Paulo leaned his cheek on the counter, facing Alvaro. “Hi,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Hi, Alvi.”

“Hi, you,” Alvaro smiled. He was just so, so glad to see Paulo again. He tenderly pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head. Alvaro’s chest was. It was warm. Just like it had always been whenever Paulo was around. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Paulo let Alvaro wrap him up, pressing himself tightly into Alvaro’s side. After a few steps his feet gave way underneath him, so Alvaro sat him down on a stool and made him climb up on Alvaro’s back.

“You smell good,” Paulo slurred, nuzzling his face into the crook of Alvaro’s neck.

“Yeah?” Alvaro chuckled. Paulo smelled like. He smelled like someone had dumped a gallon of beer all over him. Twice. “Let’s get you home and showered and you’ll smell good too, okay?”

Paulo suddenly burst into tears, and Alvaro was, well. He was as shell-shocked as Mia had been earlier. “I don’t wanna go home,” Paulo sobbed. “It’s not a nice place. I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too close to you.”

Alvaro’s heart fell. The doorway he had been about to walk through suddenly started tilting, as did his world. _He’d made Paulo hate him_.

Paulo continued sobbing for a couple more moments before he stopped, and. And wow, he was totally weird when he was this drunk. Alvaro stumbled to the car, where Mia unlocked the doors for him.

“Head,” he whispered to Paulo as he lowered Paulo into the backseat. Paulo obediently tucked his head in the nook between Alvaro’s shoulder blades, and then sprawled out along the length of the backseat as Alvaro nudged him inside and fastened the seatbelts around him.

Alvaro climbed into the driver’s seat with a sigh. Mia was quiet as he started the car, but within seconds of starting the drive, Paulo started to cry again.

“How did this happen?” he sobbed. “I don’t like fighting with you, Alvi. You are. You are my entire world. And now my entire world is gone. I want it back. Alvi, I want it back.”

And Alvaro would. Alvaro would give it back to him. But first there was Mia, who by the way was still sitting in the passenger seat, staring awkwardly ahead.

“Don’t you get it?” Paulo continued. “I would give you _everything_. _Every fucking thing_. That’s how much…that’s how much I love you, Alvaro, I’ve been. I’ve been like this before I can even remember. I don’t know when it started. But I have never stopped wanting to give you everything, and I don’t know how to stop. _I don’t know how to stop,_ Alvaro. And I’ve tried, believe me, fuck, I’ve tried so hard. Ever since you told me. Ever since you said that we wouldn’t work out. I believed you and I stopped hoping. But you continue to give me little bits, little treats, like I’m a fucking _dog_ , and then you take it _all away_ from me and. Alvaro. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I thought you did. I thought you loved me.”

And by the end of that Alvaro’s hands were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel he had almost lost all feeling in them. He took a glance at Paulo in the rearview mirror, and then at Mia next to him.

Her lips were parted in a silent gasp and her gaze was frantically darting around the empty street in front of them, desperately avoiding Alvaro. Her hands were tightly grasping the hem of her blouse.

“Mia,” Alvaro whispered.

She didn’t respond.

But Paulo did.

“I’m glad you know how it feels like to love her,” Paulo whimpered. “I know you’re happy. I know you love her. It’s just. Not all love feels the same. This love…this love I have for you, it eats me up inside every single day. It’s not…it’s not a good eating. It gobbles at me until. Until I have _nothing left_ , Alvaro, and yet I still. I still love you. And I _hate_ that you made me believe you felt the same way. I’m not trying to break the both of you up. I don’t _want_ to. I just want to know the truth, Alvaro. I hate that you _told me_ you loved me, that you told me ‘me, too,’ when you don’t mean it.”

But Alvaro did. _Alvaro did._ He’d meant it with every fibre of his being.

“I can’t keep fighting this, Alvaro,” Paulo started again. “I can’t keep fighting this when you keep giving me a reason to believe, and then taking it away. I can’t love you into loving me. I can’t keep swinging like this, Alvi. What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong to make you treat me like this? I love –“

“Paulo, would you just shut the fuck up?” Alvaro yelled, more loudly than he’d intended. More fiercely than he’d intended. He was. He was desperate. Desperate not to let Mia hear anything more Paulo wanted to say. He didn’t want it to end this way. He was a _coward_ , Alvaro, but Mia deserved more than having it end like this.

The rest of the ride was silent save for Paulo, who had started bawling again. Mia didn’t say a word, not even when Alvaro asked her if she wanted to go home first while he dealt with Paulo. It was silent until Alvaro pulled up in the street between his and Paulo’s apartments.

“Do you?” Mia whispered. “Love him?”

And this. This was a fork in Alvaro’s road. He could lie, say that he never did all those things, claim that these feelings were one-sided. He could deny every single thing and say that Paulo was being delusional. He could keep this going just like how he had for the past year.

But he could tell Mia the truth – that he was as in love with Paulo as Paulo was with him. He could get out of this before further damage could be done. He could do what he’d been intending to do when the evening had started.

“Yes,” Alvaro finally said, after five whole minutes of complete silence. “I do. I love him.”

Mia sighed. She closed her eyes. “Is this why you’ve been so upset this week? Was this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes,” Alvaro said again. “Mia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I didn’t…know that I was going to get called to go get him.”

“Have you cheated on me?”

Another fork. Alvaro closed his eyes, too. He could let Mia off kindly. He could lie to her again, because after all, it wasn’t the first time.

But Alvaro didn’t want it to end this way. He didn’t want it to end with a lie.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Once.”

Mia sighed again. She shook her head. “Alvaro.”

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro said desperately. “Mia, I’m sorry.”

“You never were planning to tell me you cheated, were you?” she asked. “You were planning to keep me in the dark forever. Alvaro, look. If you don’t love me…if you’ve _never_ loved me, why didn’t you tell me from the start? Why did you play along, pretend that you love me, when in fact the person you love was. Was so _close to us_? How could you. How could you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said. He felt tears start to fall down his cheeks. “Mia, I’m. I’m figuring things out. I never in my entire life thought that this…this thing with me and Paulo, could even be a possibility. But recently, I’ve just…just been seeing things differently. I really, really do like you very much, Mia.”

“You were using me.”

“Mia, I just,” Alvaro sighed. “You made me feel so normal. When I had you, it was like. Like everything had fallen into place. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You’re a selfish fucker, Alvaro.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “I know. I just, Mia. I never intended for you to find out like this.”

“You never intended for me to find out _at all_ , Alvaro!” she yelled, and Alvaro had never heard her yell before and. And she had this pained look on her face and Alvaro just. Alvaro had done it again. He’d gone and hurt someone he cared for again. He felt his heart fall. He _cared_ for Mia. Even if it wasn’t in the way he thought he did. And now Mia hated him. “You were just going to break up with me without even _bothering_ to think of a legitimate reason, and I would have _never known_ if we hadn’t gone to pick Paulo up today! I don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you lately that’s made you see things differently, but. But you’ve known Paulo for _ages_ and you’ve felt this way before you even _met me_ , haven’t you? And you chose…you chose to be with me even though you felt this way. _Why,_ Alvaro? Why would you do that?”

“Because you were perfect for me, Mia.”

“You aren’t being fair, Alvaro,” she sobbed, hysterical. “This is unfair. This is unfair to both me and Paulo. You made me _believe you_ , Alvaro, just like you made Paulo. And in the end…in the end, this entire thing was just a fucking _lie_. Were you ashamed, huh? Were you ashamed you were gay for Paulo? Because that. That’s fucking _ridiculous_ , Alvaro, and only adds to the long list of reasons why this entire thing is so _wrong_.”

And Alvaro just. He couldn’t even explain himself. Nothing he said could possibly help him explain himself. He had been a jerk, a complete _asshole_ , not only to Mia for the entire year but also to Paulo, for the longest time.

“Mia, I’m sorry,” Alvaro called as Mia opened the door and stepped out of the car. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Mia turned and. And she didn’t even look angry, which made matters a hundred times worse. She just looked sad and hurt and like someone had shoved her down on the ground multiple times. “I hope you’ll be happy, Alvaro,” she said. “Thank you for having the intention to let me off kindly tonight before Paulo beat you to it. I appreciate it. I just can’t believe you would do this to me. I’ll get all my stuff from your place and be gone by the time you’re home.”

Then she shut the door and started walking towards the direction of Alvaro’s apartment without turning back for even one second.  

Alvaro leaned his head on the steering wheel, listening to his heartbeat. Listening to the thoughts running a fucking marathon in his head. Listening as Paulo’s sobs slowly petered off as he fell asleep again. He glanced at the rearview mirror, at Paulo. “Thanks for ruining my life,” Alvaro said, and then laughed helplessly. “Right back at you,” he said, in his best impression of Paulo’s voice.

He was being a coward, but. But he had to admit that Paulo had helped him get the easy way out. And even if Paulo _had_ completely ruined things with Mia for Alvaro when Alvaro wasn’t ready – Alvaro would have forgiven him. Alvaro would always forgive him. Besides, this was all Alvaro’s own fault. He’d brought it upon himself, by dragging it on and on and never intending to bring it to a stop when his feelings from the very start had been crystal clear. He wished he could turn back time. He wished he had seen this earlier, early enough to stop himself from hurting everybody he cared about. Everybody who cared about him. He wished he could stop the clawing at his chest, the clawing that reminded him he had a heart but didn’t deserve one.

But right then. Right then Alvaro had to be strong because he had to take care of drunk Paulo.

Alvaro drove a few more meters down the street and parked outside Paulo’s building. He got out of the car and went over to the backseat. “Come on,” he said softly as he unbuckled the seatbelts around Paulo. “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

Only when they were at Paulo’s front door did the entire thing actually hit Alvaro – Mia was gone and Paulo was here. Mia had found out in the most horrible way _anyone_ could possibly find out. And Paulo. Paulo was so drunk he couldn’t even open his eyes, but he _still remembered Alvaro_. And he had Alvaro on his fucking _speed dial_.

Alvaro tripped over the threshold and collapsed to the ground, dragging Paulo with him. Alvaro was in tears and. And he didn’t even know why or when it started. He tugged Paulo into a sitting position and hugged him close.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Paulo.”

Paulo smiled. He opened his eyes drowsily, just enough so he could find Alvaro’s cheek with his hand. He cupped it gently, thumb running soft circles. A tear fell from the side of his eyes but he was smiling. He smiled at Alvaro and Alvaro’s entire world started to spin again.

Alvaro pressed Paulo’s face into his chest. “I’m sorry I made you hate me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t hate you,” Paulo mumbled, and then proceeded to cry again, and Alvaro just. He didn’t know what to do. “I miss you,” Paulo sobbed.

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. He buried his face in the top of Paulo’s hair when tears started falling from his eyes. “Yeah? Me, too.”

He cradled Paulo until Paulo stopped crying. He hoisted Paulo up on his feet and led Paulo to the bathroom, where he stripped Paulo of his alcohol-laden clothes and helped Paulo into the bath. Paulo sat there helplessly as Alvaro wet him, soaped him, washed him, and then dried him. He sat there with his eyes closed, softly murmuring to himself words Alvaro couldn’t hear.

Paulo collapsed into Alvaro’s arms again when Alvaro helped him out of the bath. He wasn’t crying anymore, but he was shaking, and Alvaro asked, “Hey, you cold?”

Paulo gave a little giggle but not an answer. He started murmuring to himself again as Alvaro tucked him under the covers.

Alvaro briefly considered climbing in next to Paulo. But the sight, just the sight of Paulo all curled up right there made Alvaro burst into tears again. Paulo looked so comfortable. For someone who hadn’t been aware of what had happened over the past week, they would’ve thought he was happy. They would’ve thought he was peacefully sleeping.

But Alvaro looked closely and. And the pained look was still on Paulo’s face. The same pained look Paulo had last given him before he’d left. The look that _Alvaro had put there_.

Alvaro escaped outside to his car, where he blasted the heater and cracked open the window a little for ventilation, climbed into the backseat where Paulo had been earlier, and fell asleep in Paulo’s scent and a pool of his own tears.


	31. I'll Be Your Daydream, I'll Be Your Favourite Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :)  
> So this chapter is probably the one you've been waiting for, and it probably also opens up a lotttt of things/questions you may have about Paulo and Alvaro's relationship. I promise those will gradually be addressed in the chapters soon to come after this one. But for now, I hope you guys enjoy this one, and thank you very much again for all your encouragement :) 
> 
> Title is from Roses by The Chainsmokers ft. ROZES.

Paulo woke up the next day with his head feeling like it was going to fucking fall off and roll on the ground.

He truly had no idea how he got back home and into bed. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember where he had been the previous night. It evidently involved alcohol, but Paulo couldn’t figure out how or why. He got up and wandered the apartment in search of any sign of any visitors, but he didn’t find anything or anyone. All the alcohol he had was intact, even his secret vodka stash under the sink.

He hung out by the toilet for a few hours, puking what was left over in his system. He brushed his teeth and examined himself in the mirror.

He looked just as pathetic as he remembered.

He popped a couple of painkillers and went back to sleep.

\------

The next time Paulo woke up it was early evening and Paulo was feeling a lot more refreshed. His headache had faded to a dull throb at the base of his head that disappeared once Paulo got up. He walked around his apartment again, but still couldn’t for the life of him remember what the fuck had happened to him the previous night. He remembered getting off the plane with like, no bags, because all his stuff was in Turin. He remembered getting a cab, but not where he went. He remembered everything being a daze, like. Like he was lucid dreaming.

Paulo walked several rounds around his room restlessly before he decided to call Franco.

Paulo might have not remembered a thing about the previous night, but he did remember what happened before. He remembered flying to Palermo and burrowing himself in his mom’s arms. He remembered being tired of life. He remembered visiting Franco and.

And calling Alvaro’s name while Franco was fucking him.

“Do you know where I was yesterday?” he asked when Franco took his call.

“You flew back to Turin, texted me that you landed, and then disappeared for six hours,” Franco said.

“What?”

“Morata was waiting for you at your place,” Franco continued. “He texted me when you didn’t appear.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him maybe you went to clear your head. Hey, you’re okay, yeah?”

“I don’t know how I got home,” Paulo said, a little panicked.

“Maybe it was Morata,” Franco said gently. “Look outside. Maybe he’s outside.”

Paulo hung up the phone and went to the window. There was no one sitting on his stoop, but.

But Alvaro _was_ outside. He was sitting in his car – in the _backseat_ of his car, just staring straight ahead. His head snapped towards Paulo’s direction when he saw the movement at Paulo’s window. Suddenly at a loss about what to do, Paulo fled back inside. His head was pounding. His _chest_ was pounding. He hadn’t seen Alvaro for _days_. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. He was temporarily stunned by the wave of _overwhelming love_ that had suddenly attacked him. He remembered being really, really angry at Alvaro, but. But all that anger had suddenly been washed away, like he’d forgotten how to be mad at Alvaro. Like his subconscious was trying to tell him something he just _couldn’t get_.

He stood behind his door having a fucking panic attack until there was a sudden loud knock, making him jump out of his skin. He looked through the peephole and saw Alvaro standing on the other side.

Paulo opened the door slowly. Alvaro peered up at him again, with his slanty brows and hands in his pockets. There was this silence, not a tense one, but more like. Like a comfortable silence. Paulo gazed back at him. Alvaro looked. He looked exhausted and battered and guilty and he looked beautiful.

And then Alvaro said, “I love you.”

Paulo felt his heart screech to a halt. He released the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He desperately searched his brain for where the _fuck_ this could have come from, but came up with nothing. Mainly also because he was distracted by Alvaro just. Just gazing over affectionately at Paulo, a look tinged with a little worry about what saying the words he’d been trying _not to say_ for the longest time would actually do to the both of them. About how Paulo would react. If Paulo would _say it back_.

“What?” Paulo asked in a frightened whisper.

“I love you,” Alvaro repeated, stepping into Paulo’s hallway and shutting the door behind him. The fond look on his face had changed into something more desperate. More impatient, more urgent, like it had suddenly hit him there was no reason he had to wait _so fucking long_ to say these words. And he continued, sounding more and more hysterical, “I love you, Paulo, I always have, and I’ve always known it but was too afraid to say it. I’m sorry it took me so many years to say it. I’m sorry that I made you wait because I was so dumb, I was so stupid and I only cared about myself. I care for you, Paulo, I’ve always, _always_ cared for you and I’ve always wanted you but I _never knew_ how to tell you, that I _should have_ told you, because you deserve to know, Pau. No one else deserves this more than you, if you want it, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I kept dragging this on, that I kept giving you the wrong idea. I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t care, that I didn’t love you, because I did, I _do,_ Paulo, more than I can even say and for longer than I can even remember. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I never meant to, Paulo, all I’ve ever wanted in this world was for you to be safe. And now I’ve realised that…I’ve realised that _I can keep you safe_ , because you _want me to_ , and _I want to_ , and. And Paulo. I love you. I’m sorry I led you on, I’m sorry I kept telling you I was going to give you the World Cup and then not giving it to you, because Paulo. I _would_ give you the World Cup. I would. And I’m going to. Because you are my entire world, Paulo, and I can’t be without you. _I can’t_. And Franco was wrong, _Isco_ was wrong, you know? Because I’m _not_ too pussy to say it now, I’m not, and Franco was wrong too because I wouldn’t only give you the World Cup, I’d give you the _entire world_ , just like you have given me, and –“

And Paulo was so _fucking confused_ about where the fucking World Cup came from and he just wanted Alvaro to shut the fuck up because he already got the general idea and Alvaro’s incessant rambling was giving him a fucking headache again, so he stepped forward, grabbed Alvaro by the sides of his head, and kissed Alvaro’s babbling lips.

Alvaro relaxed immediately, his arms winding their way around Paulo’s waist and pulling Paulo tightly against him. “Paulo,” he whispered against Paulo’s lips, still sounding frantic. “Paulo.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo breathed into the kiss; the kiss for which Paulo had been waiting since _forever,_ the kiss he had been craving for whenever he looked at Alvaro’s lips. Because no matter what Alvaro did, Paulo still loved him. He was still the love of Paulo’s life, and Paulo was tired. Paulo was tired of fighting, and he loved Alvaro, and now. Now Alvaro was willing to admit that he loved him back, too, and that he hadn’t just been using Paulo. The feeling of liberation, of the past week dissolving into _nothing_ , almost knocked Paulo off his feet but. But it didn’t matter because _Alvaro was holding him_.

Alvaro gave a little happy sob and Paulo. Paulo couldn’t breathe. Not only because Alvaro’s arms were wound so tightly around him but. But because _Alvaro loved him_ and _he loved Alvaro back_ and. And it was the most amazing feeling in the universe.

Paulo would've been lying if he’d said he hadn't spent the last half-decade thinking about this day. But of all the scenarios he’d managed to conjure up in his head about _how_ it would happen, _this_ certainly hadn't been one of them.

Despite that, as sudden as it was, Paulo had spent all these years waiting and wanting. He had spent all those sleepless nights thinking about this and all of them had ended with Paulo reaching the same conclusion: if Alvaro came one day and told him he was in, Paulo would drop everything immediately.

And now Alvaro was here, Alvaro was in, and Paulo was going to drop everything and dive in with him. Paulo just needed to know that after the past week of anger and fighting and crying, Alvaro finally understood, he finally understood what this all meant, and that Paulo needed his words to be more than just words. Paulo knew this was quick, it was jumping in quick. But Paulo didn't care. Alvaro and Paulo, Alvaro and Paulo had always been more than just friends. More than best friends. Paulo had spent six whole years _waiting to jump._ Now he just needed to know, he needed to _know for sure_ that Alvaro _meant this._

“What is this?” Paulo asked desperately as Alvaro guided him backwards further down the hallway. “Alvi. What is this?”

“It’s everything that’s meant to be,” Alvaro whispered.

“But Mia? What about Mia?”

Alvaro pulled away from the kiss, holding Paulo by the cheeks. His eyes searched Paulo’s, looking a little confused and just. Just impatient. “You don’t remember?” he asked softly, thumbs tracing gentle circles. “Hmm?”

“What happened? Were you with me yesterday night?”

“Let’s talk about this later, okay?” Alvaro whispered. He turned Paulo and pushed him up against the wall, knocking the fucking breath out of him. “She’s out of the picture. I promise. I promise, Pau. It’s just you. It has only ever been you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo breathed, against Alvaro’s lips again. “Alvaro. Alvaro. This is…this is for real, yeah? You’re not…you’re not just saying this to make me happy? You understand…you understand why I was mad, yeah? You’re – you’re telling the truth now?”

“I am,” Alvaro said, and he sounded like. Like a little tortured animal. “I promise, Paulo, I’m telling the truth. And I know, I know why you were mad, Paulo, I'm so mad at myself, too, _so fucking mad,_ and I’m so, so sorry. I promise, I fucking _swear_ , I’m here now, I’m in, and I’m not going to leave.”

And Paulo just. Just couldn’t _not_ trust Alvaro, couldn’t reject Alvaro’s apology, especially now that he knew Alvaro _meant it_. He couldn’t say no to Alvaro, couldn’t stop crawling back to Alvaro, even if he wanted to, even if he was sick of giving in every time. He couldn’t not _crave_ for Alvaro, for every atom of Alvaro’s being, no matter how upset Alvaro had made him, because he couldn’t remember a time he didn’t.

“I love you, Alvi,” Paulo whispered. He felt like he could never stop saying it.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro gasped, right into Paulo’s mouth. He pressed Paulo against the wall with the entire length of his body. “Paulo. Paulo. You still want me, yeah? Because I’ve been such a jerk and if you don’t want me, then I under –“

“Shut the fuck up, Alvaro,” Paulo said, biting down on Alvaro’s bottom lip to get his point across.

“You know I’m never going to shut up about you,” Alvaro smiled. He grabbed one of Paulo’s thighs and wrapped it around his waist, dragging Paulo out of the hallway and into the living room, blindly finding a path to Paulo’s bedroom. When it got too cumbersome, Alvaro grabbed Paulo’s other thigh and wrapped it around his waist as well, lifting Paulo off the ground like he was some sort of baby bear, and carrying him straight into the bedroom.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered as Alvaro set him down on the bed, kicking off his shoes and socks before crawling over Paulo, slowly tracing kisses down Paulo’s chin and neck. “Alvi, slow down. Slow down.”

“What?” Alvaro said. He stopped and slowly sat up, a completely devastated look on his face. “You don’t…” he waved his hand around vaguely. “Want this?”

“I do,” Paulo said, immediately regretting the way he’d come across. He grabbed the back of Alvaro’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. “Hey. I do.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I just,” Paulo gave Alvaro’s nose a gentle peck. “Just want to remember every single moment of this. And if…if it happens too quickly, I won’t remember it. Yeah?”

Alvaro smiled the _brightest_ smile Paulo had ever seen him smile. “Yeah,” he whispered, lowering his lips on Paulo’s again. “Yeah.”

The past week, the past week of anguish and despair and hopelessness – it all washed down the drain, just like that. All the waiting, the pining, it was all worth it. If this very moment was what they got out of it, then. Then it was all worth it.

Paulo wiggled himself up the bed until he was resting on the pillows, bringing Alvaro with him. He let Alvaro taste him, let their tongues mingle in slow, tender kisses. He let Alvaro’s hands wander all over his body; he let his _own_ hands wander around Alvaro’s body, gradually feeling him warm up from the cold weather outside. He felt every slight contour of Alvaro’s muscles beneath his shirt. He savoured every staggered breath Alvaro took against his skin, against his lips. He let Alvaro rub himself all over him until they were both hard and gasping for air, desperate for more. Desperate for skin.

Alvaro slid his hand under Paulo’s t-shirt, making Paulo buckle upwards, craving for more. “You good?” he whispered.

Paulo nodded. He lifted himself off the bed so Alvaro could tug his shirt off. He unbuttoned Alvaro’s shirt and slid it off as Alvaro’s lips landed on his again, like. Like they just couldn’t be apart. Like they’d always find their way back to each other. Alvaro traced a line of kisses down Paulo’s chest, down his abdomen, until he reached the waistband of Paulo’s pants. He started to drag down Paulo’s pants, and fuck. The bulge in Paulo’s underwear, it was right there, right there in Alvaro’s face.

Paulo’s hips keened upwards when Alvaro nuzzled his bulge. He gasped loudly as Alvaro nudged it with his nose, before gently surrounding one of Paulo’s balls with his lips, over the fabric. “Fuck,” Paulo said, and it turned out sounding a little tortured. “Alvi. Alvi.”

Alvaro pulled down Paulo’s underwear and gently cupped Paulo’s dick in his hand. “Can I, um,” he said softly, meeting Paulo’s gaze. “You know.”

“Blow me?” Paulo whispered, and fuck. Paulo had never expected to ever hear Alvaro asking him that. But Paulo would be the biggest liar in the _world_ if he said he’d never once imagined Alvaro’s fucking blowjob lips surrounding his cock. He would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t _want_ this. So when Alvaro nodded shyly, Paulo said, “Fuck yes, Alvaro.”

Alvaro gave a little giggle. He licked his lips nervously, eyes shifting anxiously over Paulo’s pelvic area.

“Lick your hand and –“ Paulo started, but Alvaro was already one step ahead, quickly sucking on his fingers and cupping Paulo’s dick again. “Yeah.”

Alvaro smiled, though it was more at Paulo’s dick than at Paulo. He licked his lips again. He gave Paulo a few swift strokes before slowly lowering his lips over Paulo’s dick and.

And it was _everything_ Paulo had ever dared to imagine. Paulo felt a shock ripple through his body which was only heightened when he glanced down and saw that it was _Alvaro_ and not some other random guy. He grabbed a handful of Alvaro’s hair and gently guided him. This was. This was Alvaro’s _first time_. And it was _for Paulo_. Paulo didn’t even care that it was sloppy. He only cared that it was _Alvaro_.

“Teeth, baby,” Paulo whispered, wincing as a sharp pain suddenly struck him. He should’ve known Alvaro was a biter. Maybe he’d train Alvaro to put those blowjob lips to best use. Because now. Now he _could_.

Alvaro took Paulo’s dick out of his mouth with a pop and a gasp. He used one hand to stroke it, spreading his own spit all along Paulo’s length. His other hand slowly found its way up Paulo’s hip, seeking and finding Paulo’s hand, their fingers intertwining.

“Sorry,” Alvaro breathed.

“You’re doing good,” Paulo said, smiling when Alvaro glanced towards him. “Yeah?”

Alvaro smiled back, lowering his lips back down around Paulo’s balls. He continued stroking and licking and sucking and by the end of it, Paulo was a wet, squirming mess, precome dribbling over the side of his shaft. Precome which Alvaro proceeded to lick off. He had become so brave, so _daring_ since the last time they’d done it, and to say it didn’t turn Paulo on would be a humongous lie.

“Get up here,” Paulo whispered. Alvaro obliged, hand still holding on to Paulo’s even when Paulo moved it to cup his cheek. He kissed a line up Paulo’s torso, lingering on Paulo’s clavicles until Paulo dragged him to face level. He shoved his tongue into Paulo’s mouth and. And made Paulo taste himself. He violently tugged at Paulo’s hair so he had better access to all angles of Paulo’s face and neck. He gently thrust his hips against Paulo’s, letting Paulo know _exactly_ how hard he was.

Paulo helped Alvaro out of his trousers and underwear before tugging on Alvaro’s bare waist until Alvaro was sitting on his chest. Paulo was just. He was so _overwhelmed_. He'd thought of it, sure, but he'd never dared to really imagine this day would come – especially after what had happened over the past week, he never dared to imagine this day would come. For all the past years, for all the past years Paulo had never expected that one day, the love of his life would come to him and tell him he loved him back.

Paulo ran his hands gently up Alvaro’s abdomen, around his ribs, and back down to his hips. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe Paulo was hallucinating this entire thing. Maybe the alcohol in his system from the previous night was fucking around with him. Paulo ran his hands down Alvaro’s thighs. _Alvaro’s thighs were around him_. Paulo closed his eyes and tried to soak everything in, but. But no matter how hard he tried, this still didn’t feel real.

But then Alvaro bent over and gently pressed his lips against Paulo’s, and the fire that immediately lit up Paulo’s belly told Paulo this was real.

“You okay?” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah,” Paulo breathed. He felt tears brimming in his eyes and. And he couldn’t believe this. Crying after sex was one thing. Crying _before_ sex was another. “I just. I just. Can’t believe this is real.”

Alvaro nuzzled Paulo’s cheeks, his breaths sending warm gusts of air over Paulo’s skin. “Maybe when I make you come, then you’ll _have_ _to_ believe this is real.”

Paulo burst into laughter, laughter which was only worsened when he saw a smiling Alvaro bouncing along on his chest. After all this, after everything. Above everything that had happened to them, Alvaro was still Paulo’s best friend in the entire world. “Fuck you. Cocky fucker.”

Alvaro gave a little giggle again, like. Like he was just as overwhelmed by all of this as Paulo was. “C’mon,” he urged. “Let’s go.”

Paulo took Alvaro’s dick in his hand as Alvaro gently nudged it against Paulo’s neck. He gave it a few strokes and felt Alvaro buckle against him with a little whimper. Paulo put the tip in his mouth, just the tip, just gently licking it; he allowed Alvaro, _loudly groaning Alvaro,_ to push his own entire length all the way into Paulo’s mouth. He held on to Alvaro’s hips as Alvaro lifted them off Paulo’s chest, guiding them gently as Alvaro thrust himself into Paulo’s mouth.

Alvaro’s knuckles turned white at a frighteningly quick speed with how hard he gripped the headboard above Paulo’s head. His other hand wound its way into Paulo’s hair, fingers combing and caressing. Paulo opened his eyes to see Alvaro just. Just watching him. He held Paulo’s gaze steadily, eyes frantic, lips parted in a silent gasp as his body buckled against Paulo’s.

Paulo raised a hand to grasp Alvaro’s, the one curled around the headboard. He let Alvaro curl it around his hand instead, fingers sliding blindly but eventually finding their grip. It was almost a death grip, like Alvaro thought if he loosened it even a little, Paulo would disappear from underneath him.

Paulo took Alvaro’s dick out of his mouth when it began to leak precome. He licked its trail up the length of Alvaro’s cock, tongue lingering on the tip like it was a lollipop. Both of Alvaro’s hands tightened, fingers digging into Paulo’s scalp and the back of Paulo’s hand. And Alvaro’s eyes. His eyes had gone sort of crazy from staring at Paulo, but there was this overwhelming affection in them, a loving gleam that Paulo knew, Paulo just _knew_ was reserved only for him.

Paulo tried to catch his breath as Alvaro urgently rubbed his dick along Paulo’s chest, occasionally nudging the tip against Paulo’s lips, making Paulo suck on it just briefly before he pulled out. Paulo ran his hands up Alvaro’s thighs, up his hips, his abdomen. He held on tightly to Alvaro’s wrists. He _needed to know this was real_.

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered breathlessly, helping Paulo back onshore again.

Paulo smiled. The uneasiness in his chest settled, but not enough to soothe his heart, which was performing a whole escape mission on its own. “I love you, too,” he mouthed.

Alvaro shimmied downwards until he was face to face with Paulo again. With one hand around both their dicks, he rubbed his own length along Paulo’s, gently kissing all the gasps that came out of Paulo’s lips. Paulo’s hips buckled upwards when Alvaro ran a finger over his slit, a loud involuntary groan escaping from his mouth into Alvaro’s.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” Paulo breathed against Alvaro’s upturned lips.

“You want me to lie and say no?” Alvaro said, giggling against Paulo’s chin.

Paulo moved to hold Alvaro by the sides of his head. Alvaro’s eyes were less crazy now, and more…more loving. In fact, all Paulo could see in them was love. All he could see in his favourite brown eyes, those eyes that he’d wanted to gaze into since 2009 – was love. They were mesmerizing. They were glowing in the dim evening light of Paulo’s bedroom, and they were all Paulo could see. They were all Paulo wanted to see.

Alvaro’s hands appeared on Paulo’s face, where he gently ran his thumbs along Paulo’s cheeks, along the lines Paulo’s dark circles made. He gave one gentle thrust and kissed, again, the gasp out of Paulo’s lips. Like he was doing it on purpose, which, well. Paulo _bet_ he was.

“How do you want me to make you come?” Alvaro whispered, a mischievous smirk hanging off his lips. And Paulo just. Just practically melted right there, under Alvaro, while all wrapped up in Alvaro’s warmth. Alvaro was so gentle. Alvaro was so soft and kind with him and it was no miracle, really, that Paulo would forgive him for _anything_ in the blink of an eye. Especially things that he knew Alvaro didn’t do on purpose, because, well. Alvaro was Alvaro. Paulo had been by this irritating idiot’s side for six years. He couldn’t say he wasn’t used to how _clueless_ Alvaro was.

“I want you to fuck me,” Paulo whispered back, feeling Alvaro practically collapse on him, resting all his weight on Paulo, like those six words made him weak. Like Paulo’s _audacity_ made him weak. So weak he could barely hold himself together. Paulo nudged Alvaro’s cheek. “Hey. Do you wanna fuck me?”

“You want me to lie and say no?” Alvaro gasped against the crook of Paulo’s neck. His lips found Paulo’s again as his hips shuddered, both their moans combining flawlessly in the heat between them.

Despite that, though, Alvaro hesitated for a few moments, his lips moving downwards but lingering at Paulo’s neck. At Paulo’s Adam’s apple. At the space between Paulo’s clavicles. Paulo pressed his face into Alvaro’s hair. It was a comforting scent.

“We’ve done it before, yeah?” Paulo breathed, body rocking against Alvaro’s. “You know how to do it. Don’t be…don’t be scared.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Alvaro whispered, and. And it was like those words held a double meaning. Like he didn’t only want to not hurt Paulo physically, but also. He didn’t want to hurt _Paulo_.

“You won’t,” Paulo said. He knew Alvaro won’t. Not physically. Not emotionally, because Paulo _trusted_ Alvaro. For some godforsaken reason, he did, and it was an unshakeable trust. He grasped the back of Alvaro’s head so he could see Alvaro’s face. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

And it was as if that was all Alvaro needed to hear; it was as if Paulo, Paulo placing his trust right into the heart of Alvaro’s soul was everything Alvaro needed to hear. He planted a brief smiling kiss on Paulo’s lips before he started to steadily move south, until he was crouched between Paulo’s thighs, breathing hot breaths against the base of Paulo’s dick.

Alvaro ran his thumb over Paulo’s hole and Paulo flinched off the bed before Alvaro’s firm hand on his hip held him down. He watched as Alvaro licked his own fingers before gently sliding his middle finger into Paulo’s hole.

And Paulo just. He gave this loud, inhumane sounding growl, and it wasn’t because it _hurt_ or anything but. But it was like he’d finally found liberation. He could finally do this with Alvaro and he could stop being scared. He could stop being scared that Alvaro would leave. Stop being scared that this was only a one-time thing, or that he was doing something _wrong_ and that he was going to get hurt again. This time, it was _real_.

Paulo rolled himself over to give Alvaro better access. Alvaro gently pulled Paulo’s butt cheeks apart and placed his face between them and – and ran his tongue over Paulo’s hole, causing Paulo to buckle against the bed with a soft moan. He reached out behind him to grasp one of Alvaro’s hands as Alvaro continued, his tongue swirling spit into Paulo’s entrance while his fingers teased it. Paulo found himself grinding into the mattress, seeking something, _anything_ , to soothe how turned on he was, so turned on that his dick was spurting precome again, straining for Alvaro’s touch.

And that was when Alvaro stopped, removed his two fingers from inside Paulo, and crawled on top of Paulo until his dick was very conveniently resting in between Paulo’s butt cheeks. “Stop cheating,” he murmured in Paulo’s ear, before nibbling on Paulo’s earlobe.

“I can’t,” Paulo whimpered, shuddering against Alvaro’s chest. “Fuck, Alvaro.”

Alvaro gave a little laugh, like he was really proud about how turned on he managed to make Paulo. How _desperate_ he made Paulo. He rubbed his length along Paulo’s entrance a few times, grabbing Paulo’s hands when they clenched into fists around the sheets. And Paulo. Paulo couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t the horrible kind of suffocation, but. But the amazing kind. The amazing feeling of being trapped in between Alvaro’s huge body and the mattress, the feeling of Alvaro working him up to the point he lost all sensation except for the one in his _rock hard dick_ , still awaiting Alvaro’s liberating grasp.

“You ready?” Alvaro whispered, his lips a welcoming gentleness against Paulo’s flushed skin.

Paulo nodded, and then watched as Alvaro climbed off him and reached over to fish around the side drawer for a condom – while still, of course, managing to maintain skin contact with Paulo by hooking his foot around Paulo’s thigh. He watched fondly as Alvaro found the condom and waved it briefly in the air triumphantly.

Paulo loved this man. _He loved this man_.

He helped Alvaro roll the condom on before pushing Alvaro down on the bed and scrambling to sit on Alvaro’s chest. He smiled down at Alvaro as Alvaro flashed him an affectionate grin. Affectionate but nervous, because after all, it was only his second time. He grabbed the base of his cock and positioned it as Paulo lifted himself. He held on tightly to Paulo’s arm as Paulo sat back down, as Alvaro slid all the way into Paulo and Paulo released the breath he was holding as a deafening grunt that he wasn’t sure himself was of pain or pleasure. It felt so good. Alvaro filling him up to the brim, it felt so _good_ , it felt like a long time coming, and Paulo just. He loved Alvaro. _He loved Alvaro_.

“You okay?” Alvaro whispered as Paulo began to ride him, and that was when Paulo realised he was wearing a grimace and his whole body was clenched the fuck up and his fingers were digging into Alvaro’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Paulo murmured, leaning over to plant his lips on Alvaro’s. They belonged there. No one could tell him otherwise. “Yeah.”

Alvaro began to thrust his hips upwards to meet Paulo’s downward movements, gobbling up the gasps and groans right as they escaped Paulo’s lips. His hands moved up Paulo’s sides and to his shoulders, his cheeks; and it felt heavenly. It felt heavenly to have Alvaro’s hands all over him, like the way they had been meant to be all this time. Because Alvaro’s touch was the one Paulo had been craving all this time, it was the answer, the only answer to all the questions Paulo had been asking all his life. The answers had always been lying in Alvaro. And now Paulo had it, he had the answer for which he’d been searching _so long_ but had always been right in front of him.

When Alvaro reached downwards to grasp Paulo’s dick – when Alvaro reached downwards, Paulo flinched so violently, it ended up as a shudder. He pressed his forehead against Alvaro’s. All he could see was Alvaro’s mesmerising dark brown eyes, gazing into his with the same sort of fervour he would expect his own to have. Alvaro continued to thrust upwards, body rocking in unison with Paulo’s, his hands wandering all over Paulo’s skin again.

Alvaro gave a little knowing chuckle when Paulo rolled over and pulled him on top. He just. He _immediately_ knew what was up. He ran his hands along Paulo’s thighs a few times, wrapping them around himself, before sliding his hands along Paulo’s arms, pinning Paulo’s hands down on the bed on either side of his head. Paulo saw his shoulder muscles contract and. And _God_ , he wanted to touch them. He wanted to run his hands all over them, his tongue, _anything_ , but he couldn’t, so he arched his back off the bed to get access to more of Alvaro’s skin, in the process feeling Alvaro nudge his prostate.

Alvaro started up the rhythm again, pushing himself all the way inside Paulo, starting to nail his sweet spot every fucking time, and tasting all the resulting mutters of ‘fuck’ that came out of Paulo’s mouth. He suffocated Paulo in all the ways that seemed possible, pressing Paulo against the mattress with his entire body, his kisses robbing Paulo of every breath Paulo wanted to take, and filling Paulo up physically in the most _amazing_ way possible, in a way no other man had ever been able to give Paulo. He suffocated Paulo with all his affection, with all the affection he had hidden from Paulo all this time, worried about things that he shouldn’t have been worried about. He suffocated Paulo with his kind, gentle hands, with his loving, tender touches that set aflame every part of Paulo’s body they came into contact with.

“Alvaro,” Paulo gasped. “Alvaro. Alvi. It’s you, yeah? It’s you this time. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered into Paulo’s mouth. “It’s me. I’m yours. Your Alvi.”

“I love you,” Paulo said, in all the breath he could afford. “Alvaro, I love you.”

And then Paulo came. He came violently all over both Alvaro’s and his own abdomens, though Alvaro’s hands were _nowhere_ near Paulo’s dick, gasping and murmuring incoherently against Alvaro’s lips. Paulo had never. He had _never_ had an orgasm like this one. Never did someone ever manage to make him come without even _touching_ his cock.

Alvaro appeared equally surprised, his hips stuttering before restarting his own rhythm, pumping himself into Paulo, hands letting go of Paulo’s wrists and moving to jerk the rest of Paulo’s orgasm out of him. His thumb gently crossed Paulo’s slit and Paulo just. Paulo _couldn’t_. He put his hands on Alvaro’s shoulders and dug his nails into them, his lower body practically convulsing like it had its own mind. He felt the long overdue salvation, the relief of the resolution of the six-year-long conflict, the gaping hole left by the sudden disintegration of all the hurt – and the love, the _overwhelming love_ , all crashing down on him at once. It was refreshing. It was refreshing and fucking _exhilarating_ at once. It almost took all the air out of Paulo’s lungs.

In all his daze, Paulo managed to press his lips against Alvaro’s. He willingly let Alvaro taste each gasp, each whimper of Alvaro’s name, each tortured groan that managed to escape from between them. He let Alvaro’s tongue linger in his mouth, tasting each emotion as it burst out of Paulo, suffocating Paulo even when Paulo felt like he couldn’t be suffocated any further. He let Alvaro love him, love him in the way Paulo had always craved, the only way he had ever known he wanted.

When the buzzing in his ears and the red in his vision faded, Paulo saw Alvaro pressing his forehead against his, eyes frantic and. And so _high_ , so intoxicated. His dick, condom off, was out of Paulo and in his own hand.

“Shhh,” Alvaro was whispering, like he was trying to calm Paulo down. His lips sloppily found Paulo’s. “Shhh, baby.”

Paulo took over the jerking off, gently removing Alvaro’s hand and replacing it with his own. He trapped Alvaro’s gaze as he gave Alvaro firm strokes, just the way he liked. He saw Alvaro’s wide-eyed gaze falter and his hips collapse against Paulo as he started to come all over Paulo’s hand, his come mixing with Paulo’s on Paulo’s abdomen. He pressed his palms down on Paulo’s shoulders, desperately thrusting his hips, the friction between his cock, Paulo’s hand, and Paulo’s already limp dick forcing out the rest of Alvaro’s orgasm.

Alvaro drowsily pressed his head against Paulo’s cheek as Paulo tightened his fingers, milking out the last drops of Alvaro’s orgasm. Alvaro gave a little shudder as he collapsed on Paulo. “Paulo,” he sighed, already completely, utterly _exhausted_. “Paulo.”

Paulo lazily spread their mixture of come around his v-line, and then scooped up a little on his fingers. He nudged Alvaro awake, because of course Alvaro _had_ to be looking when Paulo sucked his fingers dry, not even being able to differentiate between his own come and Alvaro’s.

“Fuck,” Alvaro whispered. He dragged himself up so he could kiss Paulo, shoving his tongue into Paulo’s mouth so he could taste it, too. But that. That wasn’t enough for him. He chased after Paulo’s fingers as Paulo scooped up some more, and he licked them dry. And fuck, it was _fucking hot_. “Fuck, Pau, you’re gonna make me hard again.”

Paulo chuckled. Alvaro was. Alvaro was the same horny teenager Paulo had known all these years. He even had the same silly look on his face he’d always had after he’d come. Paulo turned so he was facing Alvaro, their limbs tangled in a big, heavy, sticky mess, and gently held Alvaro’s head in his hands. Alvaro was. Alvaro was beautiful. Paulo could barely even catch his breath before it was taken away again by Alvaro. He watched as Alvaro’s facial expression slowly morphed from exhausted, to happy, to exhausted again, and then finally, to just pure, unfiltered, raw _adoration_ , his eyes lighting up when they met Paulo’s.

“You’re not going to leave me again, are you?” Paulo asked softly.

“No,” Alvaro said tenderly. Sadly. And even though he was very evidently tired out of his fucking mind, Alvaro started rambling, again, in the way he loved to. Because he _needed to_. “I’ll never leave you again. Paulo, I’m. I’m so sorry I was scared. I’m sorry I always chickened out before anything could be started between us. I’ve realised…I’ve realised that I have no need to. Because you…Paulo. Paulo, I want to be with you more than I’m scared. You’re my biggest inspiration, my biggest strength, and I should never have been scared because I’d be doing it with _you_ , and that. That’s all I will ever need. Doesn’t matter what comes at me. What comes at _us_. I _want you,_ Paulo, I’ve always wanted you, and…and I’m sorry I never knew how to show you. I’m sorry I took so long to see this. I’m sorry I was so scared, and I hurt you time and time again, and now I don’t even know if I’m being selfish by coming back and telling you all of this, and. Paulo. I’m sorry.”

“No, hey,” Paulo pressed his lips gently on Alvaro’s, just.  Just so relieved that Alvaro had come through, that he meant it this time. “I’m sorry I was so angry. And that I left. I would never leave you, Alvaro, you know that. And I know…I know you were scared. I’m scared, too. But. But yeah. You make me so much less scared. And you’re not being selfish. I’ve…I’ve been waiting _years_ for you, Alvaro. You know that. You know I’d never give up on you because I’ve always had hope for us, blind hope, but still _hope_ , and now. Now it makes me so happy that you finally see the same hope I see. That the words you say…they aren’t just words anymore.”

“You had every right to be angry, Paulo,” Alvaro said, still sounding thoroughly upset. “I was being a complete jerk. You didn’t deserve that at all. And the fact that you still want me…you still want me now. I can’t believe this. You’re the most forgiving and the kindest. You are the most _amazing_ person in this universe and I don’t deserve you, Paulo.”

“But I love you,” Paulo smiled. “Yeah?”

Alvaro smiled, too. He finally smiled, and he nuzzled Paulo’s cheek with his nose. “I love you too, Paulo. I love you so much. I can’t believe it took me so _fucking long_ to say this, and now. Now I feel like I have to keep saying it because it’s not enough.”

“This…this isn’t a dream, right?” Paulo whispered, his heart slowly beginning to pick up speed again. “This is real? This…this happened?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Alvaro’s arm curled around Paulo and pulled him close. “I promise this is real.”

“I missed you so much,” Paulo sobbed into Alvaro’s shoulder.

“Me, too,” Alvaro said, and Paulo felt a few drops of tears fall on his hair. “I’m sorry we fought. Paulo, I thought I’d lost you forever. I thought you were gone forever and I. I didn’t even _know_ how I was going to live with that. I’m so, so, so fucking sorry, Paulo.”

“And now…now us?” Paulo asked desperately. “This thing. Us. We’re _real_. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, seemingly in disbelief. “Fuck, Paul would be overjoyed, don’t you think?”

Paulo laughed. “Yeah.”

“Paulo, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again, grasping a handful of Paulo’s hair so he could see Paulo’s face. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“We okay, yeah?”

Paulo smiled. He didn’t think he would ever be this _relieved_ to hear that phrase. “Of course, Alvi,” he whispered. “We’ll always be.”

Alvaro closed the gap between their faces and kissed Paulo again, and this time Paulo knew, finally, that it was real. That this entire day hadn’t been just a dream conjured up by hungover Paulo. Because being so close to Alvaro, it no longer hurt. It no longer hurt more than being a million miles away from Alvaro. Because Paulo knew that this time it was for _real_ , and that finally, _Alvaro was his_.

“So will you tell me if you were with me yesterday?” Paulo whispered when they finally pulled apart for air.

“Yeah, um,” Alvaro sighed and closed his eyes, only to open them again a few moments later. “You wanna know the entire story from the start? Or just. Just yesterday?”

“Everything,” Paulo said. “Especially if that means I get to hear about where the fucking World Cup shit came from.”

Alvaro giggled, and then launched into the whole story about Franco calling him and practically dishing out on a plate, all the various reasons why Alvaro was being an asshole. And oh, that was where the World Cup thing came from, because well. Franco was, let’s just say, really creative. And then after flipping Alvaro’s world upside down, Franco put Paulo on a plane and sent him back to Turin so he and Alvaro could un-flip each other’s worlds. Alvaro had been waiting at Paulo’s door, and Paulo had texted Franco, but between that and the following morning, there was a twenty-hour blank in Paulo’s life.

A twenty-hour blank which was explained by Alvaro as partly being spent at a gay bar, getting himself so wasted that Alvaro had to go get him.

_Alvaro had to go get him._

“You…” Paulo made a vague gesture with his hand. “You went to get me?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, you went _inside_?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said again. He was blushing slightly. “Uh, I…I couldn’t just leave you, could I? I couldn’t just let you…sleep there.”

“You did that for me?” Paulo whispered. He felt tears prick the back of his eyes. He was just. He was so _touched_ that Alvaro had actually gone all the way there and stepped into an establishment Paulo knew he would _never_ step in. “You went inside and brought me out, brought me home?”

Alvaro smiled and nodded. He wiped Paulo’s tears with his thumb. “Hey. Don’t cry.”

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Paulo said. “I thought you. You’d never.”

“Yeah, I was a little scared,” Alvaro whispered. “But…but it was you, Paulo. I had to get you. I couldn’t just leave you there, even though you were mad at me. And I really, really wanted to see you.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alvaro smiled. His fingers carded gently through Paulo’s hair. “Wanna know the next part? The drama’s coming.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled back. “Hit me.”

“Okay, so you know I drove all the way there to get you, yeah? Well, guess who was in the car with me?” Alvaro asked. When Paulo shrugged, he continued, “Mia. Mia was in the car with me.”

“What?” Paulo whispered, voice dripping with fear. He moved his hand to Alvaro’s shoulder and gripped it tightly. He’d have _hated_ to think that he ruined anything for Alvaro. “What?”

“Yeah, I, um,” Alvaro shrugged. “I was…I was going to break up with her. Before the bartender called.”

“Oh, my God,” Paulo shut his eyes. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. The night was coming back to him slowly, in tiny, useless little bits and pieces that he couldn’t put together himself. But the fact that he felt like he’d just been punched in the gut practically gave everything away. “No. Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, um,” Alvaro said hesitantly. “Let’s just put it like this: you were a great help.”

“What did I say?”

“Stuff about loving me…about me not loving you back,” Alvaro whispered. “Everything true. Everything you were saying was the truth. About how I treated you, of course, not…not that I didn’t love you back. Because _I do_. It’s just. Just that Mia was there and she heard everything, so when I got to our street she was mad pissed and she asked me if I loved you back. And. And I said yes, yes I loved you, and she cried and she walked home on her own, saying she’d pack her stuff. She yelled at me, too. Said I was being unfair to the both of you. Which yeah, I was. I was being supremely unfair.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alvaro said, his hand now on Paulo’s cheek. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “I was going to do it, anyway. It’s just. The timing sucked, that’s all.”

“You wouldn’t have done it like that,” Paulo said. “You would’ve been…kinder.”

“I don’t think there’s a kind way to say ‘I’m in love with someone else,’ Paulo,” Alvaro pointed out.

“I’m so sorry,” Paulo sobbed. A little guilt monster was trying to eat him alive. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, hey,” Alvaro pulled Paulo tightly against his chest. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“And then, and then what happened?”

“I don’t know. She stormed home. I haven’t spoken to her.”

“You spent the night in your car?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. “I gave you a bath and put you in bed and. And yeah. I slept in my car.”

“Alvaro.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” Alvaro’s hand carded through Paulo’s hair.

“’Cause you spent all that time thinking about that long speech you had when you came to see me?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro’s smile grew, like he was just. Just so touched that Paulo _knew him_. “I had so many things to say, Paulo, and. And I didn’t know if you were going to forgive me.”

“Why didn’t you sleep with me?” Paulo whispered. He gently ran his finger along Alvaro’s brow line. “You could’ve frozen to death. And then we wouldn’t be able to have all this amazing sex and I wouldn’t be able to hear you say you love me.”

Alvaro laughed softly. “Yeah, no, I just. I didn’t know if…like, where we stood.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo sighed. He gave Alvaro’s nose a poke. “You’re dumb, you know that?”

“You’re the third person to tell me this in the last three days.”

Paulo laughed and leaned over to kiss Alvaro again. He loved that he didn’t even need to hesitate anymore whenever he thought of kissing Alvaro. Of hugging Alvaro. Of telling Alvaro he loved Alvaro. He let Alvaro wrap him up in his strong arms as he took a deep breath of – well, of Alvaro’s scent, but also the scent of everything else. The wintry air that lingered on Alvaro’s skin. The alcohol from yesterday. The humidity of the room manifesting as little sweat droplets on Alvaro’s body. The scent of sex.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered as Paulo was about to drift to sleep, the earlier adrenaline quickly being ousted by the morning’s hangover.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you for waiting for me all these years. You had no reason to, but. But you did.”

Paulo tilted his head upwards to meet Alvaro’s gaze. His desperate, nervous, sleepy, _adorable_ gaze.

“I don’t remember who I was before I loved you,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro smiled, but. But he looked like he was going to cry. He closed his eyes and pressed his head against Paulo’s. “I love you,” he mouthed.

Paulo smiled and pecked him on the lips before closing his eyes again. He wanted to remember every single moment of this, even those moments when he was about to drift to sleep. He needed to hold on to every thread, every sliver that was proof that this was real, that. That he and Alvaro were a couple now.

He opened his eyes a while later to see Alvaro just. Just gazing at him wordlessly, a loving expression on his face. It made Paulo feel all warm inside. He wondered if that was the way he looked at Alvaro, too.

“What?” Paulo asked.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. The speed at which his heart was beating was making him dizzy. He burrowed his way into Alvaro’s chest, into the hole that was made just for him. “Took you six years to figure that out?”

“Nah, took me like, five months.” Alvaro whispered, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around Paulo. He kissed Paulo on the top of his head. “Took me six years to figure out that I shouldn't be afraid to be."


	32. Start Falling In Love, Start The Riot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the previous chapter :)  
> Just a heads up, I'm going to take things slow again in terms of the plot, would love to write about how their relationship develops because it's certainly different from the first set of developments. Plus, I'm sure we all want to know how Alvaro turns out ;) I hope that's okay with you guys and that I won't bore you. I hope I won't disappoint you with these last few chapters. 
> 
> And also, just heads up #2, there's going to be much more sex happening (not in this chapter but in the next few chapters), you know, to make up for the lack of it before, hahah. Hope you guys will enjoy it (the chapters. And the sex).
> 
> Thank you so much for all your nice comments, I read all of them and I love hearing from you, thank you! I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Title is from Birds by Coldplay.

Paulo woke up the next morning to find Alvaro gone again.

The sheets were still warm, though, and there was the welcoming scent of bacon wafting in through the half-open bedroom door.

Paulo smiled. He rolled over to Alvaro’s side and took a deep breath of his pillow, letting himself be temporarily intoxicated. He grabbed his shorts from the floor next to the bed and put them on, and wandered outside to find Alvaro.

And he saw Alvaro, shirtless, wearing one of Paulo’s way too oversized sweatpants, standing over the stove flipping some pancakes. Paulo stood at the kitchen doorway, just. Just watching. He liked this scene. He liked Alvaro, half-naked in the morning, cooking breakfast for the both of them. He liked that Alvaro was _here_. Alvaro was like the missing piece in the jigsaw of Paulo’s life. Paulo had spent all this time searching for it, he’d spent all this time losing himself and trying to find himself, and failing. And now, now he’d finally found the last piece, and Paulo was _whole_ , and Paulo _knew who he was_.

Alvaro jumped when he turned around and saw Paulo. “Creep,” he said, grinning. And blushing a little.

Paulo walked up to him and stole a blueberry from the plate he was holding. “I thought you’d left.”

“No,” Alvaro whispered. He put the plate down on the counter and took both of Paulo’s hands instead. He looked like a little hurt animal again and Paulo was simultaneously so fond and so hurt for him. “No. Hey. I’m sorry.”

Paulo let go of Alvaro’s hands and dived into a hug, pressing his face into Alvaro’s chest. “Morning, Alvi,” he breathed.

“Morning,” Alvaro smiled against the top of Paulo’s head. “Hey. I know…I know it’ll always haunt you. That I left. Paulo, I wish…I wish I had never done that. I’m so sorry and. I’m. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s,” Paulo sighed. “It’s over. What matter is now, here, yeah? I don’t want you to, you know. To get into this relationship feeling guilty for whatever that’s happened. It’s just. It’s something new, yeah? We’re going to go out there and kick the world in its ass now, yeah, we’re going to do that?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro grasped Paulo’s chin, tilting his face upwards so he could kiss Paulo. “Definitely. Go brush your teeth.”

“Yes, mom,” Paulo rolled his eyes and earned a shy giggle from Alvaro. He brushed his teeth with a smile on his face that he couldn’t wipe off no matter how hard he tried; which well, you know, helped very well in the teeth brushing part.

He went back outside and sat across the table from Alvaro, where there was a plate piled high with pancakes and bacon and eggs and a sprinkle of berries. He dug happily into his plate as Alvaro watched for a few moments, and then said, “Hey, Paulo. Merry Christmas.”

Paulo froze with his fork in the air. He hadn’t even. Well, with all the drama that had happened, Paulo had lost track of the days. “It’s Christmas?” he whispered frantically.

“Yeah,” Alvaro gave this gentle smile that melted all of Paulo’s bones.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

Alvaro smiled. He reached across and placed his hand over Paulo’s. “Don’t you think this is the greatest gift you could _ever_ give me?”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. He lowered his face towards his plate again. He felt his cheeks turning red. Not even pink, but _red_. Like he was some kind of Christmas ornament. “You, too,” he smiled. “Cheesy fuck.”

They ate in comfortable silence, clearing off each other’s plates by swiping their own favourites. They took a nice long warm shower together, changed into fresh clothes, and sat on the couch quietly.

“Is this what it’s like to date you?” Paulo asked after they’d sat there for ten minutes without saying or doing anything. “It’s boring.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said, shoving Paulo in the shoulder as Paulo burst into laughter. “What do _you_ wanna do? It’s like we’ve already exhausted everything we can possibly do together.”

“That, and I love doing nothing with you,” Paulo said. “Just your company alone…it’s enough.”

Alvaro smiled. He looked extremely proud of himself. “Cheesy fuck,” he pointed out.

“Learnt from the best.”

Alvaro snickered. “Wanna play FIFA or whatever?”

Paulo shook his head, then shrugged. He was feeling brave. And festive. “Let’s make out or something.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro laughed as Paulo pressed closer against him, practically crawling into Alvaro’s lap. “That what people do nowadays in their free time?”

“I’d like to think so,” Paulo whispered before their lips met.

It was certainly different from the previous night – it wasn’t urgent, wasn’t desperate, like they were chasing after something they were so close to finding. It wasn’t like a fight for control, hands grasping and gripping and scratching. It didn’t turn them into hot, wet, sweaty messes, literally _aching_ for more like hungry, angsty beasts.

It was gentle and loving and soothing, their lips soft and patient against each other’s, hands exploring chests and shoulders and hair. It felt like the warm, welcoming open doors of home after six years away. It was the sort that took both their breaths away in the slowest, most beautiful way, in a way they both weren’t aware of until they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, their gasps for air warming each other’s faces.

“Have I ever told you you’re a great kisser?” Alvaro whispered, panting.

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled as Alvaro lay down along the length of the couch, pulling Paulo on top of him. “The very first time we kissed. You asked me if I was lying about not kissing anyone earlier.”

Alvaro sighed, making Paulo float up and down with his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo. “You mean I could’ve been doing this for…for five years, and I’ve only started doing it now?”

“Alvi,” Paulo said. He placed one of his hands on Alvaro’s cheek and spread his fingers out. “Don’t say that. You were right. We were _miles_ apart, Alvaro, across an ocean. And maybe…maybe we were too young. Maybe if we’d jumped into it, we wouldn’t even be here. Maybe we’d be strangers by now.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you _dare_ say that,” Alvaro said. He sounded a little shocked. And desperate. His arms tightened around Paulo, as did his legs, like he wanted to wrap Paulo up in a blanket and carry him around everywhere. “You’re my favourite, Paulo Dybala, and I would never have let that happen.”

“I’m just saying,” Paulo whispered. He liked this suffocation. Suffocating in Alvaro’s scent, that was how he wanted to go. “Things…always work out. Yeah? They always fall into place.”

“You are the best,” Alvaro proclaimed. “I just. I want to tell everyone about you, you know? _Everyone_.”

“Yeah? You like me that much?”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro smiled against Paulo’s temple.

“Why didn’t you go back home for Christmas?” Paulo asked.

“I wanted to, but,” Alvaro shrugged. “But then we fought, and I wanted to make things right before I left because I just. I couldn’t stand knowing that we weren’t okay, you know? And now it’s Christmas, and I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Alvaro said. “Are you going to Palermo for the New Year?”

“Why, you wanna come with me?”

“You think we could all go to Madrid?” Alvaro asked after a short nervous pause. “I mean me, and you and your mom, and we can all have a nice New Year’s celebration together.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. It did sound really nice. His brothers were back in Argentina with their families, anyway, and Paulo wasn’t going all the way back because he had no time to deal with the jet lag. Madrid sounded great, and he was sure his mom would love it. “I’ll ask my mom.”

So they untangled from each other and grabbed their phones, and Alvaro called his family to ask if it was okay that two more people were going to join them, and Paulo called his mom to ask if she’d like to spend the New Year in Madrid.

They both returned to the couch with big smiles on their faces, and Paulo knew. Paulo knew this was going to be alright. Paulo knew _everything_ was going to be alright.

“My mom’s _so happy_ we’re going to Madrid,” Paulo said. “If you listen closely enough, you can still hear her squealing.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “My mom, too.”

“I’m, um,” Paulo hesitated. “I’m gonna tell her, if that’s okay? Tell her that you…you’re my boyfriend.”

“Yeah? Okay,” a _gigantic_ grin split Alvaro’s face into two. “I’m your boyfriend?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. He hid his face behind one of the couch cushions because it was _burning_ and Paulo felt like maybe it would burst into flames anytime. His heart, too, joined in when he said, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Alvaro reached over and cupped Paulo’s cheek, his fingers gently caressing every part of Paulo’s face that wasn’t behind the cushion. “You’re my first boyfriend,” he said softly. “I just. I don’t wanna screw this up. I’ve never done this before, and…yeah. I don’t wanna fuck things up. Because Paulo, you mean the _entire world_ to me, okay, and I just. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“You’re my first boyfriend too, you know?” Paulo smiled. Alvaro appeared to only just realise it. He seemed particularly clueless and innocent that day. Paulo had already lost track of how many things he’d had to remind Alvaro of. “Hopefully my only. We’ll figure it out together, yeah? Just like we _always have_.”

Alvaro smiled, and Paulo discarded the cushion when Alvaro moved in to hug him again. He loved this. He loved how touchy Alvaro was being; he loved how touchy Alvaro _could be_ , now that they were together. Paulo felt the same need to constantly be holding on to any part of Alvaro.

“Should we tell someone?” Alvaro whispered. “Like, I don’t know, Paul or someone. Make their Christmas.”

Paulo grabbed Alvaro’s phone, positioned it up in front of the both them, and took a photo of them kissing. “Here. Send it to Paul.”

Alvaro did so eagerly, tapping vigorously on his phone until he got it delivered to Paul. And Simone, too, for good measure. After some more pondering, he sent it to Isco and Franco, too.

Barely _ten seconds_ later, Alvaro’s phone exploded with like, five simultaneous messages from Paul that all read ‘HOLY FUCK,’ followed by a call from the man himself. Alvaro put the phone to his ear, a somewhat petrified look on his face.

“Holy fuck!” Paul yelled, and. And Paulo could hear it even though it wasn’t on speaker. “Holy fuck! Holy fuck!”

Alvaro pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to Paulo. “I think we broke him.”

“Gimme,” Paulo said, and snatched the phone as his own started ringing with Simone’s name flashing on the screen. Must’ve been because Alvaro’s phone was engaged. Alvaro took that call instead. “Paul, shut the fuck up.”

“You guys made up?” Paul asked, and he was so excited his voice had gone all screechy. “You made up? You’re _boyfriends now_? Man, our squad has a pair of little boyfriends! Holy fuck!”

“Don’t have an aneurysm or something,” Paulo laughed.

“No, I’m so excited, fuck!”

“This is okay, yeah? You’re okay with…this?”

“Dybi, please,” Paul scoffed. “I thought you guys were a couple since day fucking _one_ , remember?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. Of course. Paul had always been their protector, even though they hadn’t needed him until now. “Of course.”

“Can you send the photo to the group chat?” Paul asked excitedly. “I wanna have someone to squeal with me.”

Paulo nudged Alvaro, who seemed to be having a much calmer and quieter time with Simone. “Hey, he’s asking if we’ll send the photo to the group.”

“Tell him to pay for my hearing damage, then we’ll talk.”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Yeah, we’ll send it in a while,” he said to Paul. After all, he didn’t know a single one of his teammates who didn’t know about him and Alvaro. At least, not after the thing at the Christmas party.

He returned Alvaro’s phone just as Alvaro hung up Simone’s call. “Well, that was already exhausting,” Alvaro said, pretending to faint on the couch, draping an arm over his eyes. He took a peek at his phone screen and saw a couple of messages which made him burst into laughter. He passed it back to Paulo.

 _Bagged the gold, Alvaro,_ was Isco’s first text, followed by, _And Paulo, good luck with this dumbass._

 _When are you two coming to visit your big bro Franco?_ was Franco’s.

“They’re dumb,” Paulo laughed, dumping the phone somewhere on the couch.

“Well, weird people make dumb friends,” Alvaro said. “And we’re weird.”

And that didn’t really make any sense, but. When did Alvaro ever make any sense? And besides, “We’re the weirdest.”

“That’s why we’re meant to be together.”

Paulo smiled. He really never thought he’d hear Alvaro say that. He watched Alvaro send the photo, without any context or caption, to the Juve group chat. He watched the conversation window _explode_ a couple of seconds later, mainly because Paul was obviously hiding in the bushes and waiting to pounce the _instant_ the photo was sent. He and Alvaro watched, thoroughly entertained, as Paul started freaking out all over again and all his teammates replied with various versions of ‘congratulations.’ He felt so. So happy. So happy that he was with Alvaro. That Alvaro couldn’t even wait to announce to the entire world how proud he was that him and Paulo were a couple. That he and Alvaro could still continue being weird with each other, forever.

“I’m putting that photo in my scrapbook,” Alvaro suddenly said.

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “It’s not really the best. Let’s take another one.”

So they did, with Paulo’s phone, ignoring the constant buzzing of all the excited people in the group chat. And the next photo wouldn’t cut it, either, so they took another. And another. And another.

And well, Paulo was lying. The photo did cut it. Every photo, in fact, made the cut. Paulo was never that picky when it came to photo-taking.

Paulo just wanted an excuse to spend the entire day kissing Alvaro.

\------

Their trip to Palermo to see Paulo’s mom and Franco ended up being a road trip because all the flights were booked solid. Not the flights from Palermo to Madrid, though, thankfully.

It was sixteen hours, including a twelve-hour car ride to their transit at the Villa San Giovanni ferry, but. Not one hour of it was dull. Paulo and Alvaro spent the first few hours howling their lungs out to Coldplay songs, and Alvaro spent more time watching Paulo sing than watching the road ahead while he was driving. Which was pretty dangerous, but Paulo occasionally reached over and shoved his cheek so he’d look in front, so all was fine. Paulo always kept Alvaro grounded. He always did.

The driver was in charge of the music, so after they switched places about four hours into the ride, it was time for Paulo’s old Spanish songs – which they couldn’t help but dance (well, wiggle, in the limited amount of space they had) to. And it was Alvaro’s turn to distract Paulo, which he did a very good job at. The adoring smile on Paulo’s face was. It was _everything_ to Alvaro. The thought that Paulo forgave Alvaro in just the blink of an eye, that he loved Alvaro so much he was willing to put everything aside and trust Alvaro again – it was everything to Alvaro.

It became quieter in the evening when they were all danced out. They drove silently with the gentle wintry sun on their right, the radio playing some soft Italian music.

Paulo was gazing sleepily at the road ahead when Alvaro placed his palm on Paulo’s thigh.

“I love you,” Alvaro said.

Paulo smiled, his tired eyes lighting up. They were the brightest colour in the drab winter surroundings. He placed one of his tiny hands on Alvaro’s and squeezed it gently. “I love you, Alvi.”

And Alvaro just. He had this irrational fear that if he let go of Paulo, Paulo would float away like a balloon, Paulo would _disappear_ and all this would turn out to be just a dream. After all, everything that had happened, happened because Alvaro hadn’t held on to Paulo tightly enough. He hadn’t treasured Paulo like Paulo deserved to be treasured. He had taken his best friend for granted, over and over again. And this time, he was going to do it right.

So he held on to Paulo’s hand and watched Paulo as his eyes trained on one spot on the road in front of them. He felt Paulo use his thumb to trace lazy circles on the back of Alvaro’s hand. He found himself mesmerized by Paulo’s lips as they softly mouthed the lyrics to the song on the radio. It had taken Alvaro eons to see it, but Alvaro had always wanted this, and. And now he had it.

They made it to Salerno when it turned dark. Paulo pulled up in an empty side street after they’d grabbed some food at a drive-through. He turned off the engine, blasted up the heater, and sighed.

“Tired?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “Hungry. Wanna eat outside? Stretch a little.”

The engine was still warm when they settled on the car’s front hood with their bags of food. Paulo stretched his legs out, and then crossed them and put his fries in between them, keeping them from Alvaro’s greedy hands.

“Sharing is caring,” Alvaro pointed out.

“It keeps them warm,” was Paulo’s well, frankly very lame excuse.

Alvaro reached over, anyway, and easily stole a couple of fries. He gleefully ate them as Paulo pouted into his burger.

Alvaro ended up giving Paulo more fries to make up for those he’d stolen. He couldn’t help it. He wanted the smile back on Paulo’s face, even if Paulo was just being teasingly upset.

Paulo slid his gloved fingers in between Alvaro’s when they were both done eating, pressing his cheek against Alvaro’s shoulder to warm it. “Alvaro,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to constantly remind me that this isn’t a dream, you know?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He leaned his cheek against the top of Paulo’s beanie. Paulo had just always been this way. He had always been the confused kid who could barely differentiate reality from his dreams. Paulo really thoroughly experienced every emotion that came his way, happy or sad. He was so different from Alvaro in terms of how their lives had gone. Alvaro had always gotten what he wanted. He started big, started at a big club and never stopped climbing upwards. It just all came naturally to him. Paulo, on the other hand, had to fight for every step in his life. Nothing had ever come easily to Paulo; it was why Paulo was so emotional. And Alvaro was glad, so glad that he got to have a little slice of all that emotion Paulo held close to him. “You know I won’t stop doing that.”

Paulo smiled. “Thank you, Alvi.”

“You’re going to have to constantly remind me that you’ve forgiven me.”

“Of course I have,” Paulo said. “Alvi. Are you still…are you still scared?”

“Of ruining your life?” Alvaro whispered. He put his other hand over Paulo’s, clasping it between both his palms. “Of course I am. Paulo, you’ve…you’ve worked so hard for all of this. And now, now it’s all in my hands. It’s just, it’s big, you know? I look at everything you’ve achieved, and. And it worries me that I could just crush all of it with one wrong move.”

“You know I don’t care, right? I don’t know if I’m being too selfish, too reckless, too stubborn, or whatever. But…but Alvaro. We’ve always worked out, the both of us. And I’m scared, too, of ruining _your_ life, but. I’m sorry for being so selfish, but I don’t care about whether my life will be ruined as long as you’re there to ruin it with me.”

Alvaro closed his eyes. His heart was. It was heavy. It was heavy from all the emotions he held for Paulo, that he’d held for Paulo over all these years. It was heavy from all the new, refreshing _hope_ that he had for the future. It was heavy with the accompanying possibility that all of it would be dashed.

“I know, yeah,” Alvaro finally said. “You’re not being selfish, because…because I want that, too. I want to not care. And I’m trying, okay, Paulo? I promise. I _promise_ I’m trying.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Thank you. Thank you for trying.”

“This feels good, you know?” Alvaro said. “This…this whole thing. Being with you. You know me, Pau, I’m spoiled. I’m like the spoiled kid everyone talks about. I get what I want, even if I don’t intend to. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, or whatever they say. I never really felt a sense of true accomplishment.”

“Not even when you won La Décima?” Paulo laughed softly.

“Not even when I won La Décima,” Alvaro chuckled. “I played with a great, great team, you know? It wasn’t as much of my thing as it was everyone’s. But this…with you. It feels like I fought for it, and I won. And I know, I know I didn’t _fight for it_ , because you were the one doing all the fighting and I was being an asshole, but. But I fought against myself, in the end, and I won, yeah? I fought against all these dumb thoughts I was so blindly feeding myself, I played the battle between what I wanted and what I was so afraid of wanting, and I won, and you’re my prize, and. Paulo. I could never ask for anything more.”

“Yeah?” Paulo turned his face into Alvaro’s shoulder. His cheeks were a little pink, and Alvaro was pretty sure it wasn’t just because it was cold outside. “Yeah. I’m really glad you won. I’m sorry you got nothing to show for it except a pathetic Paulo.”

“You’re everything but pathetic.”

“It even starts with a P, like Paulo.”

“There are plenty of words that start with P, Pau. See? Plenty starts with P.”

“Plenty Paulo? That doesn’t even make any fucking sense.”

“Fuck off, that’s not what I meant.”

“What _did_ you mean?”

Alvaro sighed. Paulo was _impossible_. Alvaro lay down on his back, against the windshield, and Paulo joined him, on his arm. The night sky was glittering with stars, watching over Paulo and Alvaro as Alvaro started reciting all the nice words that started with P.

Pretty Paulo. Perfect Paulo. Passionate Paulo. Priceless Paulo. Patient Paulo. Persistent Paulo. Protective Paulo. Pleasant Paulo. Prince Paulo. Prized possession Paulo. Hell, even Palermo started with a P.

“Pig Paulo,” Paulo added, then giggled sleepily. And that was how Alvaro could tell it was probably way past Paulo’s bedtime.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a dirty pig,” Alvaro smiled.

“Hey, penis starts with P, too,” Paulo said, and then burst into laughter so loud Alvaro was actually legitimately afraid it would wake the entire neighbourhood. “You calling me a dick?”

“Shhh,” Alvaro laughed. He couldn’t help it. Paulo was just. He was a sunshine. “Come on. Let’s get inside and have a nap.”

“Potato Paulo,” Paulo continued as Alvaro helped him off the hood and back inside the car. “Pregnant Paulo.”

“Pau, shut the fuck up,” Alvaro said. It was beginning to be obvious how his P plan had backfired. He shoved Paulo into the passenger seat – passenger, that started with a P – and reclined it to a comfortable position before climbing into the driver’s seat and doing the same. They could still see the glittering night sky through the skylight in the car roof.

“Night, Alvi,” Paulo whispered, a smile on his face. “You know what starts with A? Amazing. And you’re amazing, Alvaro Morata.”

Alvaro leaned over and kissed Paulo on the corner of his upturned lips. “Night, Pau. Love you.”

They fell asleep hand in hand, night sky watching over them.

\------

Alvaro tugged hard at Paulo’s arm to stop him while they were crunching up Paulo’s Palermo driveway.

“Do you think she’ll like me?” Alvaro asked worriedly. There was this petrified look in his eyes. “Your mom? Will she like me?”

“What?” Paulo laughed. “Alvaro, she’s known you for six years.”

“Yeah, but,” Alvaro gestured wildly at nothing. “Now she’s going to know me _differently_.”

“She’s going to love you, Alvi,” Paulo smiled. He reached up and kissed Alvaro on his lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

They made their way to the front door, where Paulo asked Alvaro to wait outside while he went in himself. He found his mom in the living room and dragged her out to the hallway.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Mom,” Paulo said. “Remember you told me, if I ever met a boy I really like, that I should bring him home so you can see him?”

“Yeah?” she said, taking a second to register the entire thing. Her eyes widened like she’d just seen a million dollars fall from the sky. “You brought him? You found a boy you really, really like?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. “I found a boy I really, really like, and he really, really likes me too, and. And he’s my boyfriend and I brought him to see you.”

“You brought your _boyfriend_? You have a boyfriend? You brought him? Why didn’t you tell me, the house is a mess, and I’m a mess, and –”

“Yeah, mom, don’t worry, he’ll love you,” Paulo grinned. He was just. So entertained by how both Alvaro and his mom were worried. They had _no idea_ what they had coming, and Paulo was honestly so amused. He opened the front door and reached around the doorway to grab Alvaro’s hand, dragging him inside. “Mom, this is my boyfriend.”

Paulo’s mom’s eyes widened a little further when Alvaro stumbled across the threshold, looking shy and sheepish. She gave a soft little gasp, and then. And then she ran up to Alvaro and hugged him, and Alvaro was so taken by surprise he almost fell backwards, and before he could start hugging her she let go of him and went to hug Paulo instead, all the while mumbling excitedly to herself, “Oh, my God! He’s your boyfriend. You’re his boyfriend. Paulo, this is your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, mom,” Paulo laughed as mom lifted her head to peek at Alvaro, like she just had to make sure it was really him. “He is.”

She wrapped her other arm around Alvaro, pulling the both of them into a sloppy group hug. She leaned her cheek on Alvaro’s chest and sobbed into it. “How long has this been going on? Months? _Years?_ How could you _keep this from me_?”

“It was just recently, mom,” Paulo said, and smiled at Alvaro when Alvaro glanced at him.

“Really?” she asked. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Really, mom.”

“It was after…” Paulo’s mom started, but stopped when Paulo nodded, desperately avoiding eye contact with Alvaro. Alvaro didn’t know about the breakdown he had in front of his mom. He couldn’t. And Paulo hoped that knowing Paulo broke down because of Alvaro didn’t change his mom’s impression of Alvaro. “Oh.”

“Thanks for coming to Madrid with us,” Alvaro said, completely clueless, like that was the only thing he could think of as an appropriate first sentence to his boyfriend’s mom.

Paulo’s mom gasped again, in realisation. “ _That’s_ why you wanted to go to Madrid!” she exclaimed at Paulo. “Oh, my God, you didn’t even tell me why, and now I know! How dare you play your mother like that!”

And then she grabbed Alvaro’s hand and led him inside, choosing _Alvaro over Paulo,_ and Alvaro had no choice but to follow, throwing a ‘help me’ glance backwards at Paulo, and Paulo just. He was _so happy_ that his mom hadn’t changed her mind, right there and then. That she hadn’t decided that the grudge she held for whoever made Paulo cry like that was bigger and more important than Paulo finally finding happiness with that person. Because Paulo had made up his mind that it wasn’t, and to have her come to the same decision warmed Paulo’s heart incredibly.

“The Madrid thing was his idea,” Paulo pointed out, scurrying after them and grabbing on to Alvaro’s outstretched hand.

Mom smiled as they all sat around the coffee table. She looked as happy as Paulo felt. She started asking Alvaro about – well, about everything she could possibly ask about, even things she already knew. It was heartwarming for Paulo, sitting across them and watching them, watching his mom just being _so excited_ about the fact that Paulo _had a boyfriend_ and that _it was Alvaro,_ and watching Alvaro slowly become more and more comfortable with the woman who meant the entire world to Paulo and whom Alvaro had known since he was sixteen.

When she left to get some drinks and snacks for the both of them, Paulo went to sit next to Alvaro.

“She likes me,” Alvaro said happily.

“Of course she does, Alvi. She always has.”

“But she _likes me_ ,” Alvaro said again.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. He loved seeing Alvaro this way. He was so happy and excited and fidgety _and happy_. “I like you, too.”

Alvaro leaned over and pressed his lips softly against Paulo’s. “I like you _a lot_ ,” he whispered, his hand sliding up Paulo’s arm, up his shoulder, and on his cheek.

“Are you, um,” Paulo started, pulling just a couple of inches away from Alvaro. “Going to tell your family, too? While we’re there?”

“That – I, uh,” Alvaro stammered, and Paulo felt guilty for springing it on him like this.

“You don’t have to, Alvi, I’m sorry, I was just asking.”

Alvaro took a long, deep breath. “My family doesn’t know that…that I’m not straight.”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “Yeah, okay.”

“I don’t know how they’d feel about it,” Alvaro continued. “I don’t know…if they’ll be as nice about it as your mom is. I promise I’ll tell them, Paulo, I just have to deal with them one step at a time and one day we’ll tell them, but. But not now, is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Paulo smiled. As long as Alvaro was sure, he didn’t mind putting off telling Alvaro’s family. “Of course. I’ll let my mom know.”

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered as he closed the gap between their faces and kissed Paulo again.

“Me, too,” Paulo breathed. His heart was. It was going to beat out of his chest.

And then mom appeared behind them with the drinks and snacks, and she laughed when they pulled apart, blushing. She put the tray down on the table and sat back down in her place on Alvaro’s other side. She took Alvaro’s hand and squeezed it. “Alvaro, I’m glad it’s you,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, his other hand finding Paulo’s and squeezing it in turn. “Me, too.”

\------

Since they were already in Palermo, Paulo and Alvaro thought they’d pay Franco a surprise visit before they left for Madrid.

Franco opened the door with this confused look on his face. It morphed quickly into a delighted smile at the sight of Paulo and Alvaro standing on the other side, hand in hand.

“You came!” he exclaimed. “And very quickly too!”

“Hey, no more dirty jokes in front of my boyfriend,” Paulo said. He felt like he could never get enough of calling Alvaro his boyfriend. Just the sound of that, _‘Alvaro, my boyfriend,’_ made his heart swell with pride.

“ _No more dirty jokes in front of my boyfriend_ ,” Franco repeated mockingly. “And it wasn’t a dirty joke.”

“No dirty jokes _behind_ my boyfriend, too, even though he’s got a nice butt,” Paulo smirked.

And Alvaro. Alvaro was blushing so hard he put Palermo’s pink jerseys to shame. “Uh, hey,” he finally managed to say. He shuffled his feet around. “Um, thanks. For, you know.”

Franco beamed at them as he ushered them in and shut the door behind them. He stood there staring happily at them for a few moments before he reached out with his freakishly long arms and put his freakishly _huge_ hands on both Paulo and Alvaro’s shoulders. “Man, it makes me so happy to see this,” he said. “Coming to visit your big bro Franco, what an honour.”

Paulo smiled. He saw Alvaro’s shoulders go slack with relief and he heard Franco burst into fond laughter when he similarly observed it. They all headed into the living room, where Franco decided that he’d like to get to know Alvaro better – it was three and a half years too late, honestly, to Paulo – and so he sat and bombarded Alvaro with random questions as Paulo watched. He wasn’t worried, though, because Alvaro had gotten plenty of practice with Paulo’s mom. Paulo was just really amused that the people in his life felt the need to approve of Alvaro in their own little ways even though Paulo had known Alvaro for _years_ and knew Alvaro well enough, better than anyone else in the world really, to make his own decisions. But he loved that they cared.

Alvaro began to loosen up after a while, throwing light-hearted insults right back at Franco. Franco found out about things regarding Paulo’s embarrassing teenage years that Paulo _never_ thought he would find out about, because. Because only Alvaro knew them.

Paulo sat back and took it all in. His life was perfect. For the very first time in all twenty-two years of Paulo’s existence, his life was perfect.


	33. Oh Love, Don't Let Me Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just to let you know, I changed a little bit of the previous chapter. I just added a few lines to the part where Alvaro meets Paulo's mom, I had the thought to write it that way but forgot about it, so I added it in. Hope you guys are doing well and enjoying it so far, thank you so much!
> 
> Title is from Life In Technicolor ii by Coldplay.

The first thing Alvaro’s family asked him when he arrived together with Paulo and his mom was, “Where’s Mia?”

“We, uh,” Alvaro glanced at Paulo. “We broke up.”

“Oh,” Alvaro’s parents said in unison, but. But Marta _immediately caught on_. Paulo saw the sudden spark in her eye in the moment it all clicked, and her excited gaze darting quickly between Alvaro and Paulo.

“You –“ she started, but Paulo jumped in, interrupting, “Happened just a week ago.”

If Alvaro’s parents had been wondering why Paulo said that instead of Alvaro, they didn’t show it. They just nodded solemnly and everyone headed towards the living room – everyone except Paulo and Alvaro, who were roadblocked by Marta.

“You two got together, didn’t you?” she asked, a smirk on her face, like she was totally proud of herself for figuring it out on her own.

“What, um,” Alvaro stammered. “Why would you say that?”

She waved her hands in Alvaro’s face, like that was all the evidence anyone needed. Alvaro blushed a deep shade of red.

“This why you brought him home for the New Year?” she asked.

“Yeah, um,” Alvaro scratched the back of his neck. “Kinda, yeah. But I wasn’t going to tell mom and dad, don’t say anything, please.”

“I won’t, dickhead, don’t worry,” she shoved him in the shoulder. “You…gonna tell them yourself, yeah? Someday?”

“Someday,” Alvaro agreed.

Marta gave him a proud smile. She gave Paulo a proud smile, too. “I _knew_ this would happen,” she said, before scuttling excitedly into the living room.

“Sorry,” Alvaro said to Paulo. He gave Paulo’s hand a squeeze, but let go when they approached the living room.

Paulo shook his head and smiled. “I think she’s known for years.”

“What? Why?”

“When I went to watch you in Romania?” Paulo said. “In 2011. She gave me shit because I couldn’t stop smiling when I saw you.”

“She’s never said anything to me,” Alvaro said. He looked a little shaken. Like he couldn’t believe his sister knew more about him than he knew about _himself_.

“She wanted us to figure it out by ourselves,” Paulo said.

“Yeah, but then I could’ve figured this out way earlier,” Alvaro said sadly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Paulo whispered. “I think it’s worth it.”

Alvaro stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to Paulo. He smiled this. This loving smile and Paulo almost melted in a warm puddle right there in the Moratas’ front hallway. “Yeah?” Alvaro said.

“Yeah,” Paulo replied, smiling. At least, he thought he was smiling. Everything was blurry except Alvaro’s face.

“You couldn’t stop smiling when you saw me?” Alvaro asked, still smiling but now looking a little more adorably embarrassed. His eyes wandered Paulo’s face fondly as Paulo nodded. “You know, I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Paulo bit on his bottom lip so he wouldn’t burst into giggles. “Me, too,” he whispered.

“You wanna kiss you, too?” Alvaro murmured conspiratorially as he grabbed Paulo’s hand and pulled him into the empty kitchen. “Kinky.”

“Alvi, you know what I mean,” Paulo grumbled. He puckered his lips. “C’mon. Kiss me.”

Alvaro obliged, gently shoving Paulo up against the kitchen counter and planting his lips softly on Paulo’s. He slid his hands under Paulo’s jacket, forming pools of warmth against Paulo’s waist through his t-shirt, before changing direction and moving south.

“Waist-up only,” Paulo whispered. “It’s all PG-13 in here.”

“There’s literally no one in this house who’s thirteen years old.”

“Yeah, but,” Paulo smiled. “We’re still thirteen in the eyes of everyone in your living room.”

Alvaro scoffed against Paulo’s lips. His hands wandered to Paulo’s thighs and lifted them so Paulo was sitting on the counter. “Screw them.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said. He threw a glance at the kitchen doorway.

“You’re too short,” Alvaro breathed. He smiled. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling away.

“I love you, too,” Paulo said. He couldn’t stop _smiling_. He hopped off the counter and held on to the back of Alvaro’s shirt as he wandered deeper into the kitchen. “Where you goin’?”

“We’ve been in here too long, we should go outside with some food or something,” Alvaro said, opening random cupboards. “You know, so they won’t ask.”

“Sneaky,” Paulo giggled.

“Kinky and sneaky, aren’t we the best pair?”

“I’ll be damned if we aren’t,” Paulo beamed. He found some crackers and poured them on a plate as Alvaro got out glasses and drinks.

They carried their bounty proudly out of the kitchen, but before they stepped into earshot of the rest of their families, Alvaro stopped Paulo. He stopped Paulo and he gave Paulo one last gentle kiss on the lips, and he said, very determinedly, “We _are_ the best.”

Paulo spent the entire evening smiling, and everyone thought it was because he was really happy to be there but in fact, he was just really happy that Alvaro was by his side.

\------

The New Year’s dinner went by smoothly. Everyone couldn’t stop talking and laughing and sharing weird anecdotes about Paulo and Alvaro. Alvaro’s parents couldn’t stop gushing over how it’d been far too long since they’d seen Paulo’s mom, since 2010 or whatever. Paulo’s mom couldn’t stop praising the nice Christmas season in Europe which was a stark contrast to the summery Christmases of Argentina. Marta couldn’t stop jabbering on about whatever it was that she did for a living.

And Alvaro didn’t stop holding on to Paulo’s hand under the table.

Thankfully, no one thought to ask why both of them only ate with one hand. Marta, though, did keep throwing mischievous glances towards them, and did not hesitate one bit to kick Alvaro’s shins under the table.

After the countdown everyone slowly started drifting to sleep, so they all returned to their rooms. Alvaro sat on his old bed for what seemed like a long time, just. Just thinking. This very room was where he and Paulo had started. This very room, and the one next door, were the very places where he and Paulo spent all those afternoons and evenings, all those late nights, just. Just hanging out. Doing lame things like watching horror movies and googling each other. Doing nothing at all.

This was where they fell in love.

Alvaro lay down in bed, but couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. He got up and wandered down the hallway to Paulo’s door. With good luck, Paulo’s mom would already be asleep and Alvaro could sneak into bed with Paulo.

But he opened the door to see _both_ Paulo and his mom sitting up in their respective beds, Paulo’s mom in the big bed and Paulo in the little mattress set up next to it. They were arguing about who should sleep in the big bed although, well. The current situation seemed as good as any to Alvaro.

“Told you we should’ve gotten a hotel room for you,” Paulo was grumbling.

“That wouldn’t be very polite. And I’d be lonely.”

“Um,” Alvaro said when the both of them noticed him. “I was…just…saying hi.”

“Hi,” Paulo grinned this _dashing_ grin which made Alvaro’s knees weak.

“Would you tell him to please go to sleep?” Paulo’s mom said.

“Um,” Alvaro said again. “Why don’t you take my bed? I’ll…stay here with Paulo.”

“Like a sleepover,” Paulo informed her happily.

She gave that a little thought, after which this knowing smirk appeared on her face. “Sure,” she said, too jovially for both Paulo and Alvaro’s tastes. She grabbed her stuff and gave the both of them a good night kiss each before disappearing down the hall.

Alvaro shut the door and locked it. Paulo was already climbing into the big bed, his old bed. He patted the space next to him – which there still was a lot of, despite the amount they’d both grown since the last time they were in that bed. “C’mere, baby.”

Alvaro clambered in next to him and wrapped him up in a huge hug. “Happy New Year, Pau,” he whispered.

“Happy New Year, Alvi,” Paulo smiled. “You miss me?”

“That, and we haven’t had our New Year’s kiss.”

Paulo smiled. He gently pressed his lips against Alvaro’s. They were soft and gentle and kind and loving, just like they had been when they first kissed Alvaro. Just like they had been to Alvaro when Alvaro was sixteen and he looked at them and realised he’d like to kiss them.

“Happy 2016,” Paulo murmured in between kisses.

“You, too,” Alvaro smiled.

“You know,” Paulo said thoughtfully, pulling away from Alvaro save for a palm on Alvaro’s cheek. “Mom could’ve stayed here and we could’ve gone to your room so she didn’t have to move.”

And well, it wasn’t as if Alvaro hadn’t been thinking about _that_ , but. “First, we spent way more time in this room in 2009, this is where everything happened and I want it to be the same and it won’t be if we go to my room. And secondly, there’s two beds here, so we can at least pretend we weren’t dumb enough to stay all tangled up in each other in one tiny bed all night long. Which we are going to be, by the way.”

“’Cause we’re dumb,” Paulo smiled sleepily.

“And totally weird.”

“You’re my favourite,” Paulo whispered. His lips landed on Alvaro’s again, lazily. “I love you so much.”

And then he proceeded to fall rapidly asleep as Alvaro watched, so happy and in love and so _incredibly fond_. He loved that despite this whole new couple thing, he and Paulo were still best friends, first and foremost. They could still tease each other, insult each other, cultivate the weirdest fucking habits with each other, and have the most serious talks with each other. They could still understand each other inside out, could still do the most unglamorous of things, without any need to try to impress. In a way, everything had gone back to the way they were before – except now with the tiny little addition that neither of them were afraid of loving the other.

Alvaro gently pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head and reflected Paulo’s expression when he smiled a peaceful smile. He felt Paulo’s body settle into a steady breathing rhythm. He found the most comfortable position as Paulo slid one of his thighs in between his. He smiled as Paulo’s fingers subconsciously found his waist. He could feel Paulo’s pulse against his hip. He felt like he could never take his eyes off Paulo. Like his eyeballs were permanently glued in that direction, like a cat to a laser. Except he already caught this laser. This laser. It had always been his.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro spent a whole hour before training strategizing how they were going to make their entrance.

Alvaro was all for just strolling in like nothing had changed, but Paulo was completely against that idea.

“You know they’re going to have something planned, they’re fucking weirdos,” Paulo reasoned. “And if we go separately, then it won’t work.”

“Just let them do it, then,” Alvaro said. He didn’t know _why_ , but he was just. He felt so laid-back. Maybe it was because he’d known their teammates for a longer time than Paulo had and although Alvaro thought maybe they all had undiagnosed ADHD or something, he just _knew_. He just knew that they wouldn’t do anything too over the top.

“Alvi, what if they do something weird?”

“How weird can they even _get_? They’re already so weird.”

“Fine,” Paulo huffed. He took off his shorts and shoved his feet into his jeans. “Don’t come crying to me when a boot lands on your face or something.”

“Pau, they’re gonna want to see us together,” Alvaro wrapped an arm around Paulo’s waist as he stormed by, pulling Paulo to sit next to him. “It’ll be fine. They’re so accepting, yeah? That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Paulo said grumpily. “We’ll go together and train normally, but can we at least enter the locker room at different times?”

Alvaro sighed. What could he _ever_ do with Paulo? He knew Paulo only wanted them both to be safe. _Alvaro_ wanted them to be safe, too. But Alvaro _trusted his teammates_.

“Okay, okay,” he said, just so Paulo wouldn’t be mad. He reached over and poked Paulo’s forehead until the little furrow disappeared. “You can go in first, and then you can do a loud mating call when you’re ready so I can go in.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo laughed, and. And that was it. That sound was all Alvaro ever wanted to hear.

They went to Vinovo together in the same car, but Alvaro had to stand lamely by the car in the parking lot as Paulo made his way inside. He watched as Paulo’s tiny silhouette became tinier as he approached the entrance. He didn’t miss the little wave Paulo gave him before he disappeared inside.

Alvaro had decided that he’d wait five minutes before he went in, but. He turned out to last only two.

Paulo came storming out of the building with this _furious_ look on his face, and his furrow was the deepest Alvaro had ever seen, and he _glared_ right at the ground as he practically _marched_ right out to where Alvaro was standing.

“What’s up?” Alvaro asked, trying his very, very best not to burst into laughter at the sight of Paulo looking like. Like a really angry bird.

“They won’t let me in unless we go in together,” Paulo fumed. His mouth turned downward in an adorable pout as he hooked his arm violently in Alvaro’s and dragged him along. “They made me come out here and get you. Come the fuck on.”

And then. And then Alvaro couldn’t hold it together anymore, so he started laughing, clutching on to his stomach and infuriating Paulo even further when he held the both of them back. “I really don’t want to say this, but I told you so,” Alvaro managed to choke.

“They formed a fucking _wall_ at the locker room entrance!” Paulo exclaimed. “What the fuck! What if I _hadn’t_ come with you? What could I have possibly done?”

“C’mon, we all know that would never have been possible.”

“I hate everyone,” Paulo grumbled.

“Hey, why didn’t you do your loud mating call so you didn’t have to walk all the way out here?” Alvaro said, and then burst into laughter all over again. He just. He couldn’t.

“Fuck you, Alvaro.”

“Come on now, Pau,” Alvaro slung an arm across Paulo’s shoulders. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Paulo said, but he sounded a _little_ mad, and on top of looking like just an angry bird he also looked like an angry _and flustered_ bird, and Paulo was so fucking _adorable_ and if he had feathers sticking out from his head in all directions Alvaro wouldn’t have been one bit surprised. The thought of that made Alvaro start laughing again. “Alvaro, stop laughing at me!”

“Look, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“I just don’t wanna, you know,” Paulo waved his hands around vaguely. “Shove this in their faces.”

“We sent them a photo of us kissing,” Alvaro pointed out.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t shoving it in their faces. It was giving them an answer. The resolution to all that…stuff at Gigi’s party. It was a reply.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. He snuck a kiss on Paulo’s temple. He knew Paulo just wanted to protect them both, to shield them both from the public eye as far as he could help it, but. “Remember when I said, as long as I’m with you, I’ll try to be less scared, and I’m always trying for you, and you make me so much less afraid? And, and that I’ll always keep you safe, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said softly. He thought about it for a few quiet seconds before turning to Alvaro, the smile back on his face, just that easily. “Me, too,” he whispered.

“This is fun, yeah?” Alvaro smiled back. “It’s gonna be fun.”

“It’s always fun with you, Alvi,” was all Paulo managed to say before they reached the doorway into the locker room and.

And they were bombarded with like, a shit ton of random stuff – bottles, towels, training shirts, shorts, socks, _boots_ , random bags, balls. And the whole room was like, whooping and cheering, and the wall Paulo had previously described was no longer there. Paulo started giggling by Alvaro’s side, peering up at Alvaro when Alvaro clutched him close and shielded his face with a palm, instinctively.

And then Paul appeared next to them, saying, “You gotta kiss or we won’t let you in.”

Alvaro sighed. Paulo sighed, too. And Paulo was. He was blushing this deep crimson and he looked less like an angry bird and more like a shy tomato, but Alvaro was still equally fond. Besides, Alvaro was sure his own face had some sort of red all over it, too. Alvaro leaned over and gently pressed his lips against Paulo’s, much to the room’s enjoyment, the whooping and hooting and clapping starting up again. After that, thankfully, they were allowed inside.

“Told you there’d be flying boots,” Paulo said.

Alvaro laughed. He loved the way Paulo said ‘boots,’ with his lips way more puckered than they needed to be. “Told you it’d be fun.”

Paulo smiled proudly at Alvaro, though there was literally no reason to be proud. But that was just Paulo. Paulo always seemed to be proud of Alvaro for some little reason or another.

The rest of the team slowly streamed out of the locker room after getting ready – they must’ve gotten there ridiculously early in anticipation for Paulo and Alvaro’s arrival, Alvaro realised – but Paulo sat right there next to Alvaro until Alvaro was done lacing his boots.

And then he said, “Race you to the pitch,” and he got up and started running before Alvaro could even react.

Alvaro ran after him, stumbling for a moment on his studs but recovering immediately after he heard the echo of Paulo’s giggle off the walls of the hallway. He caught up with Paulo at the edge of the pitch and leapt up on his back, causing him to fall over and roll around on the grass right at the corner of the pitch, where – well, where Alvaro hoped his teammates wouldn’t notice.

“I hate your stupid face,” Paulo said, breathless, lying on his back as Alvaro fell next to him.

“Hate yours, too.”

“Love everything else, though,” Paulo smiled.

Alvaro smiled at the sky. It was cloudy and foggy save for this tiny patch of blue that seemed to be right above where Alvaro and Paulo were. “Hey,” Alvaro said. He knew Paulo needed to hear this, that Paulo had always needed to hear someone tell him this. And now Alvaro could be that person. “Today’s gonna be great.”

Paulo turned his smile to Alvaro. “Yeah,” he whispered. He got up and dusted himself off before helping Alvaro up. He took a glance at the middle of the pitch, where Allegri was watching everyone stream in. He turned back to Alvaro and looked into Alvaro’s eyes, his own green specks gleaming all eager and determined, and he said, “Alvi. Football first, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, even though. Even though Paulo would _always_ be first in Alvaro’s heart. But the great irony of their lives was, in order to keep Paulo safe, football had to come first. Football always had to come first. Football had to come first so their lives wouldn’t be turned upside down. “Football first.”

They let go of each other’s hands, flashed each other one last smile, and walked to the huddle side by side, as close as they could be without touching. It was back to normal for the both of them, just like that, and Alvaro couldn’t help but feel relieved. Relieved that normal with Paulo felt so. So comfortable.

\------

Paulo didn’t realise how long Alvaro had been crashing at his house until Alvaro ran out of new clothes and started wearing the same black t-shirt every day. And even after that, it took Paulo _days_ to convince Alvaro to either start sleeping at his own place (that earned him a firm ‘no’ from Alvaro) or to get some more clothes ( _this_ Alvaro was willing to do).

After their first match of the year Alvaro drove back to his own place, telling Paulo he’d be back at Paulo’s place in ‘half an hour, max,’ so they could get some dinner. Paulo sat and waited and fidgeted his time away, and he read the pizza menu like, thrice, and changed his mind all three times about what flavour they were gonna order, but more than an hour passed and Alvaro didn’t come back.

Paulo tugged his hoodie on and jogged his way to Alvaro’s place to see what was up. He opened the door to a completely dark hallway and living room, which was strange, because he was sure there were things in Alvaro’s living room he wanted to pack and it was already almost seven pm.

Paulo wandered further inside and saw Alvaro sitting on the floor, in the empty space between the kitchen and the living room. The TV was on but muted, and it was playing the daily news. A tiny pile of clothes was on the floor next to Alvaro.

Paulo turned on the two spotlights above the TV, casting a warm glow over the living room which trickled over to where Alvaro was sitting. Paulo padded his way silently to Alvaro’s side, just hovering, wondering what he should say.

“Hey,” he whispered after a while, so he wouldn’t scare Alvaro. “Alvi, everything okay?”

Alvaro sighed. He closed his eyes and hung his head. “This place is really empty without all of Mia’s things.”

Paulo felt himself freeze up for a moment. He sat down next to Alvaro, not touching him because he wasn’t sure if Alvaro wanted him to, and. And just stared ahead, at the same spot Alvaro had been staring at earlier.

“This why you didn’t want to come home?” Paulo asked. It had suddenly hit him. It’d suddenly hit him why Alvaro had refused to come back here and instead dealt with wearing the same smelly t-shirt every day.

Alvaro shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like. Like I dealt with it wrong. I _did_ deal with it wrong. It shouldn’t have ended the way it did. I checked the answering machine and…and there was nothing. Nothing from her. She’s, like. Gone.”

“I’m sorry, Alvi,” Paulo whispered. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have…said all those things. I’m sorry, Alvi. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Alvaro said, and he sounded so. So frightened. He slid over to Paulo and wrapped Paulo up in a hug, his face buried in Paulo’s hair. “No. Hey. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. “No. I meant…I meant that I shouldn’t have gotten so deep into the relationship with her when, you know. When I had you. I just. I wasn’t seeing it correctly. I just wanted things to be normal, and she was perfect and she gave me that. And. And I was just using her. Paulo, why didn’t I see this earlier? Why do I always have to hurt the people I love?”

“You really did love her at one point, didn’t you?” Paulo asked softly. “Remember last year, on New Year’s day, we were with Mia and Isabella and…and you told me, she’s really close to being the one?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “Yeah. She was.”

“You’re not a bad person, Alvaro,” Paulo smiled, although Alvaro couldn’t see his face. “I know you’re not a bad person. You’ve just…just taken this much longer to figure it out, yeah? Remember…remember me and Camila?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said again. He took a deep breath of Paulo’s hair, even though it probably still smelled like sweat from the earlier match. “Paulo.”

“Yeah?”

Alvaro went silent, and. And Paulo thought of all those times, over the past years, that he’d been this way. When he’d gone silent just because he wanted so, so badly, so badly it hurt, to tell Alvaro he loved him, but he couldn’t. He wondered if this was one of those silences. He didn’t want Alvaro to think that he had to hesitate to tell Paulo _anything_ , anything at all.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered when Alvaro hadn’t said a word. “Hey. If you think this is too fast, that we’re moving too fast –“

“No,” Alvaro interrupted, quickly pulling away from the hug and holding Paulo’s head in both his hands. He looked. He looked so sad, so upset that Paulo would actually suggest that. “No. Paulo.”

“I’m just saying that –“

“No.”

“– Maybe you need time to get over Mia.”

“ _No_ ,” Alvaro said again, and he was _crying_ , and Paulo had barely _ever seen_ Alvaro crying, and he just. He didn’t know what to do. He used his thumbs to wipe Alvaro’s tears, feeling Alvaro push his cheek deeper into Paulo’s palm. “Paulo. Paulo, I know you think this is your fault. I know you think…you think that I would have done it better, that I would have let her off more easily. The thing is…the thing is, I didn’t get a chance to think about it. I didn’t get a chance to think about how I would do it before I actually…decided to do it. There’s one thing that Mia said that I’ll always remember, she said that I didn’t even bother thinking of a legitimate excuse to break up with her, and that I was just going to let her go without telling her the real reason why. And that just…just hit me really hard, you know? Because I really didn’t have a reason to break up with her. I didn’t have any excuse, I didn’t dislike her for any reason, because. Because she was perfect for me. She just…she just _wasn’t you_.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered. He gently squeezed Alvaro’s cheeks. He didn’t actually know what to say, so there was a little silence before Alvaro continued rambling.

“I think, I just think that maybe I would’ve ended up telling her, you know? I would’ve ended up telling her that I was breaking up with her because I was in love with someone else, and I would have told her it was you. Because…do you remember when you and Isa broke up, and I went over to Palermo to see you, and you asked me if you’d been stupid to tell Isa the truth?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. “You said I wasn’t, because if I hadn’t told her, then our relationship would be built on lies and it wouldn’t be real.”

“I’m a hypocrite, don’t you think?” Alvaro sobbed. “I’m a hypocrite.”

“Alvi, no. You weren’t lying to Mia. You just…you just didn’t see it until it was too late. Yeah? You’re not a hypocrite. I know you, Alvi. You just didn’t see it. You didn’t lie to her about your feelings towards her.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Paulo used his thumbs to run gentle circles on Alvaro’s cheeks.

“I think, what I wanted to say is,” Alvaro started slowly. “I would’ve told her, Paulo. I would’ve told her I was in love with you, because _I am,_ and I didn’t want to lie to her, because…because of the same reason I told you in Palermo. I don’t want anything to be built on lies. I just, now I don’t know…if it would’ve hurt her more if I’d told her myself. But Paulo, everything that happened, it wasn’t your fault. You just, you just did it for me.”

“Maybe she would’ve been less mad.”

“Maybe,” Alvaro cracked a tiny smile and Paulo was so _fucking relieved_. “I just, I don’t know. I screwed everything up, Paulo.”

“Well,” Paulo whispered. He ran his fingers along Alvaro’s stubble. “Your love life’s always been this screwed up.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Alvaro sighed. “Maybe this is it. This time, with you, is the time I finally get this whole love thing right.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled, touched at the sudden affection. “You think?”

“I have to get this right, Pau,” Alvaro whispered. “I have to. You’ve spent all these years hurting, thinking that I don’t truly love you back – I’ve hurt you for so long, Paulo, so _fucking long_ , and you didn’t deserve any of it, Paulo, I don’t deserve you after all that I’ve done to you.”

“No, Alvi, c’mon,” Paulo wrapped him up in a hug. Alvaro was slipping away again and Paulo couldn’t let him do that. “It doesn’t matter to me. If we get this right – which we _will –_ then…then all we’ve been through will be worth it. Yeah?”

“Paulo, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve forgiven you,” Paulo said. “Really, Alvaro. I’ve forgiven you.”

“I really, really don’t want to screw things up with you.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Paulo smiled. He pulled away from the hug, holding Alvaro by his shoulders. “Alvi. Hey. If you…if you need some time to think about this, to think about Mia and you and me, then. Then take some time, yeah? I’ll wait.”

“I don’t want you to wait anymore, Pau,” Alvaro said desperately. “You’ve been waiting too long. And I don’t want to wait either, Paulo, I want to…I want to make up for all the years we’ve lost, don’t you see? It’s not too fast – well, it’s _fast_ , but. But it’s not too fast because _I love you, Paulo,_ and I don’t want, don’t _need_ to think about it any longer.”

“You sure, yeah?” Paulo whispered. “Alvaro. You don’t have to be afraid of telling me the truth.”

“I know,” Alvaro said. He pressed his forehead against Paulo’s. “I know.”

“And you know you can talk to me about this, yeah? And anything. Anything at all.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled, and this time it reached his eyes, and Paulo just. Paulo loved him. “You still want me,” Alvaro whispered, more of a statement instead of a question, his eyes slowly being glazed over by this stupendous _awe_. Like he couldn’t quite believe that after all these years, after all the crap he’d given Paulo, Paulo was still there.

“Of course I do,” Paulo said.

“I love that you still want me,” Alvaro said.

Paulo smiled. “You tired?” he asked. “Wanna eat something? I’ll leave you alone, if – if you want. If you need to be alone.”

“I don’t want to be alone. Please. Please don’t leave me alone.”

“Yeah, okay. Yeah. I’ll cook you something? Or you wanna cook? Whatever you want, Alvi.”

“We’ll see what frozen food we can find, yeah?” Alvaro said, standing up. “I just. Paulo. Don’t leave. This place is too big.”

“You know,” Paulo started softly as Alvaro slid his hand in his. “I felt that way, too, after Isa left. The house, it was huge, and…and it was just so empty without her stuff, and some places still smelled like her, and. Alvaro. It gets better, I promise. It gets better if you want it to.”

“I do,” Alvaro said. “I want it to.”

“I just, you know. Want you to be okay with this, yeah? I don’t want you to jump in with me just because…because it’ll help you get over Mia. I know that I’m not a rebound, that you don’t do rebounds, but. But this isn’t about me, it’s about you, and. Alvi, just think about it, yeah? I don’t want you to rush into anything if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready, Paulo. I’m so ready. I don’t need time to get over Mia, it’s just. Maybe I need time to get over the way it ended. But not to get over her. It’s not that way, you know, because. Because I broke up with her _to be with you_ , Paulo. I didn’t get together with you _because_ I broke up with her. It’s. It’s the other way around. Yeah?”

Paulo smiled. That _did_ make a lot of sense. He felt the knot in his chest settle, the knot that he didn’t even notice was there. This was real. He and Alvaro, they were _real_ , and _nothing_ could stop them. “We’re one smart pair, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Alvaro smiled back. “Always been.”

“I love you,” Paulo said, and Alvaro just. Alvaro looked _so relieved_ to hear him say that, so happy and grateful and he grabbed Paulo and wrapped him up in a tight hug.

“I love you too, Paulo,” he whispered, kissing Paulo’s ear. “You are the best. The very, very, _very_ best.”

“That no one ever was?” Paulo asked, and then burst into a little fit of giggles.

“What the fuck, Paulo,” Alvaro started laughing, too, just because he couldn’t help it. “Are you like, ten years old? Fuck, I’m dating a ten-year-old.”

“Fuck you, no one ever gets too old for Pokémon.”

Alvaro gave a little chuckle, and. And that was it. Everything was back to usual, just like it had always been for the both of them, just as _easily_ as it had always been. Paulo loved that this was just inherently how they were. That every little trouble could just. Disappear.

They ended up ordering the pizza flavour Paulo had decided on earlier because there was nothing in Alvaro’s fridge that could be eaten – Alvaro had always insisted on fresh food, being the pseudo top chef that he was, and all the fresh food was long past their due. They settled on the couch just in time for the evening match between Napoli and Torino, and slowly finished the two pizzas they’d ordered, picking off the parts they didn’t like and feeding them to the other.

At the end of the night Alvaro turned to Paulo and asked, “Will you fill up this place with all your Lego sculptures and other lame stuff?”

And what, Paulo’s stuff wasn’t _lame_ , but. But Paulo felt this indescribable happiness to hear Alvaro ask him that. Alvaro wanted him to. To move in, sort of. Alvaro wanted him there. Alvaro _wanted Paulo there_.

“Of course,” Paulo whispered. He leaned over and kissed Alvaro, which immediately appeared to be a bad idea because he could taste all the green peppers he’d shoved in Alvaro’s mouth. “Yeah. I will.”

“Can I fill your place up with my stuff, too?”

“Please do,” Paulo said, and the resulting look on Alvaro’s face, one of pure innocent joy and excitement, made Paulo think, fuck the green peppers. He wanted to kiss the fuck out of Alvaro.

So he did, he leaned over and planted his lips right on Alvaro’s, and when he felt them turn up into a smile he couldn’t help but reflect, Paulo felt like. Like his heart was going to explode. It was going to explode with all the _love_ he held for Alvaro, over all these years, all the love that had done nothing but replicate every time he saw Alvaro.

They fell asleep on the couch under one blanket in a comfortable ball of warmth, and Paulo remembered once again that he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	34. We're Afire Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Afire Love by Ed Sheeran.

Their first away game of the year against Sampdoria was also Paulo and Alvaro’s first time sharing a hotel room since. Well, since everything.

Nothing much had changed about the arrangement, of course. There were twin beds and one bathroom which Alvaro would proceed to hog. There were teammates scattered around in the rooms around them. The only change was that, for reasons so painfully obvious to the both of them, Gigi was put next door.

“D’you think Allegri knows?” Paulo asked as they dragged their luggage inside.

“Knows what?” Alvaro asked.

“About…” Paulo gestured to the space in between them. “About us.”

“You, uh,” Alvaro sat down on one of the beds. Having Allegri know about them was _completely_ different from having all their teammates know about them. What did it mean? If Allegri knew, what did it mean to the both of them? “You think he knows?”

Paulo shrugged. “Gigi’s next door.”

“Um,” Alvaro said. He felt this sudden fear claw at his heart, the same fear he’d had in the past whenever he realised how hopelessly in love he was with Paulo. The fear that. That everything would fall apart.

Paulo walked over and sat next to Alvaro. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey. It’s okay.”

“If Allegri knows,” Alvaro started, his voice catching on the last word. He cleared his throat. “If he knows, what does it mean for us?”

“I don’t know, Alvi.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. Paulo reached over and held both of Alvaro’s hands in his before they could start shaking, giving them a little squeeze. Alvaro felt his chest settle, but only a tiny bit. “Paulo, I’m. I’m trying. I’m trying not to be scared.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, letting go of Alvaro’s hands and wrapping his arms around Alvaro’s waist instead. “Yeah. I am, too.”

“Paulo, I love you,” Alvaro said. He pushed his face into Paulo’s hair. It smelled a bit like Alvaro’s shampoo. “I love you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Paulo raised his head and pressed his lips gently on Alvaro’s. His hands slowly moved up Alvaro’s back as Alvaro’s lips parted in response. “Me, too.”

Alvaro grasped the back of Paulo’s neck when Paulo tried to pull away. He used his tongue to gently nudge Paulo’s lips apart, greedily lapping up the gasp that Paulo gave. He threaded his fingers through Paulo’s soft hair – he just _knew_ Paulo was stealing his shampoo – and pressed it back on his head. He slowly lowered Paulo so Paulo was lying down, upside down on the bed, and he crawled on top of Paulo, arms trapping Paulo. He felt Paulo smile against his lips. He felt Paulo grab handfuls of his hair and tug gently.

And then Paulo cupped Alvaro’s cheeks with both his hands and gently pushed Alvaro away. His eyes were half-open, gazing lazily at Alvaro. “Alvi, we should, uh,” Paulo said, breathless. “We should get downstairs for dinner.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. He dove in for one last, lingering kiss. Paulo just. Paulo made everything okay. He made Alvaro completely _forget_ whatever he was worried about, like he had some magic mind-manipulating powers. “Yeah.”

Paulo pressed his head against Alvaro’s. “We’re going to be okay.”

“We are, yeah? We are.”

“C’mon,” Paulo gave Alvaro a gentle shove. He wriggled his way out from underneath Alvaro and went over to his suitcase, opening it and finding his Juve polo shirt. He stood facing Alvaro as he took off his jacket and unbuttoned his formal shirt, and. And fuck. Paulo looked good in formal shirts. He looked even better in his dark-coloured suit. And _even better_ while he was _taking them off_.

“Paulo, you can’t do this to me,” Alvaro whined.

“What?” Paulo asked. He looked a little flustered. He turned his back to Alvaro when he saw Alvaro leering at him. “Okay. Okay.”

Deciding that the distraction was cleared enough for him to function properly, Alvaro got his polo shirt out and started to change, too. He heard Paulo sighing as he tugged on his shirt. And then sighing again as he walked over to the wardrobe to hang up his shirt and jacket.

“What is it?” Alvaro asked, tugging on his own shirt.

“I just,” Paulo started, waving his arm around in front of him. A little scarlet blush began to creep over his cheeks. “I just – I’m – I’m a little turned on right now.”

“You think?” Alvaro asked. He could feel this throb, this _burn_ deep inside his gut. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t go down for dinner like _that_. _Paulo_ couldn’t go down for dinner like that. “Shit, Pau.”

“It’s all your fault,” Paulo said helplessly. There was a thump as he leaned against the wardrobe, his suit pants still on. “Fuck, I can’t even change my pants.”

Alvaro walked over to where Paulo was standing and slid the wardrobe door open to hang his own clothes. “You, um, need help?”

“Fuck you,” Paulo said. “You think that’d help at all?”

“No, yeah,” Alvaro gave a little giggle. “No, I just.”

“Okay, okay,” Paulo said, frustrated. “Let’s just. Just. Not look at each other for a while. Okay? No peeking.”

They went to the farthest ends of the room from each other and proceeded to change their pants, and _fuck_ , okay, Alvaro had a semi and maybe he and Paulo could –

“Don’t you even dare to _think_ about it,” Paulo warned, his voice sounding faraway and muffled from where he was.

“Okay, okay,” Alvaro whispered, more to himself than a reply to Paulo. “Think about gross things. Think about gross things.”

“I’m done,” Paulo called, his voice wobbling slightly.

“Hey, you know what’ll help?” Alvaro said, pulling the drawstrings of his pants. “Maybe if we think about, like, what’ll happen if Allegri finds out about us.”

“Oh, God,” Paulo groaned. He squatted down on the ground with his face in his hands. “What the fuck. Alvaro. What the fuck. This is fucking. It’s fucking disgusting. Now I have a boner _and_ I’m thinking about Allegri.”

“That’s the point,” Alvaro said. “Then. Then your boner will go away.”

“It’s not fucking working.”

“Wow, is it because you’ve got some secret crush on our boss?”

“Shut the _fuck up_ , Alvaro, I _don’t._ ”

“Let’s go,” Alvaro said, grabbing Paulo and shoving him out the door. They were _late for dinner_ and like, the entire team was going to speculate the _exact same thing_ which was going to be the _worst_ because it couldn’t have been any further from what they had been doing. He shut the door as Paulo, whining softly to himself, started trudging down the corridor. “Shut the fuck up, you sound like a little goat.”

“Alvaro. Alvaro, there’s a little bump in my pants.”

“Stop it. Stop looking at it. Stop thinking about it. Let’s just eat real fast and come back up.”

“And do _what,_ exactly? Stare at our boners until they disintegrate?”

“I don’t want my dick to fucking disintegrate, thank you very much,” Alvaro said. “And yours better not, either.”

Paulo continued whining until they reached the dining room, after which he switched into his obedient, _everyone-is-gonna-judge-me_ mode and sat down quietly, grabbing a random napkin and draping it over his lap casually. Alvaro did the same.

Unfortunately, their plan to eat quickly didn’t materialise, because they ended up at the same table with Paul and Gigi and, well. There wasn’t a single quiet moment. And it didn’t seem like it was going to end. Alvaro shot Paulo occasional desperate glances, but Paulo seemed equally helpless.

“So,” Paul suddenly said, and both Alvaro and Paulo jumped when they realised Paul was talking to them. “Heard you got put in the room next to Gigi.”

“We did, yeah,” Paulo said.

“Um, we actually, um,” Alvaro stammered. “We wanna ask you something.”

“Does Allegri know about us?” Paulo blurted before anyone could respond. Before Alvaro could think of a way to ask. And then Paulo started blushing, and fuck, Alvaro was so fond. Paulo waved his fork around. “I mean, is that why Gigi is next to us?”

Gigi stared at them for a few moments before he burst into laughter. “No, Allegri doesn’t know. Do you want him to know? Because I can –“

“No,” Alvaro and Paulo said in unison.

Gigi started laughing again. “Okay, okay, he doesn’t know, and we’ve decided to shuffle the rooms around a little bit and I ended up being put next to you two, it’s like, half-coincidental. And the other half, well. I put you there next to mine and Leo’s room, just because, you know, yeah. This is a little new to all of us, and. And like, we’ve never had to have a ‘no sex in your rooms before matches’ rule but now it seems like we have to, and this is the first night so it’s just going to have to be me.”

Paulo and Alvaro turned to each other and. And simultaneously blushed the same shade of deep red, causing the entire table to erupt into loud laughter. Laughter which _did not stop._

“Hey,” Gigi continued when everyone had started practically wiping the tears off their faces. “On a more serious note, if this thing’s gonna be for real, you should let Allegri know.”

“We’ll think about it, yeah,” Paulo said once he’d composed himself. Alvaro was pretty sure they would. After all, they’d already decided that football came first – and for that to happen, Allegri had to be involved.

“Okay, good,” Gigi smiled, like a proud father. He gestured to the other empty tables around the room, everyone having already left to get an early night. “Do you guys want to go back? Or sit here and continue letting us laugh at you?”

“We’ll go back,” Paulo suggested. “Get some, uh, sleep.”

“Fuck you, way to stammer at the wrong word,” Alvaro hissed.

“Fuck off. I’m not gonna speak anymore.”

And the entire table was just staring at them so they quickly got up, muttered their goodbyes, and hurried away to the sounds of their teammates making happy fond noises at them.

Paulo pushed Alvaro violently through their room door once they had it open. He slammed it shut and shoved Alvaro up against it, forearms on Alvaro’s chest, eyes beaming green lasers at Alvaro. His crotch was pressing on Alvaro’s and Alvaro could – it was still there, Paulo was still hard, and so was _Alvaro_ , and Alvaro couldn’t help but move his hips a little, because even a tiny bit of friction would be better than the hell he was trapped in.

“I thought of something,” Paulo whispered, like he was afraid someone would hear them.

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered back. He grabbed the back of Paulo’s head as their lips crashed together. It felt liberating. It felt liberating just to _hold_ Paulo in his arms. “What?”

“Stop distracting me,” Paulo breathed. He pulled away from Alvaro, quickly ripped off all his clothes except for his underwear, and climbed into bed. “Hurry, just. Just take your clothes off and get into bed. Quietly.”

“Are we doing something kinky?” Alvaro asked. He took off his shirt and pants and dumped them on the floor before getting into bed.

“No, listen to me,” Paulo said. He cupped his bulge with his own hand and gasped softly. “Okay. Okay. So they said, no sex, right? And sex means, like, _fucking_ , and we don’t have to do that, yeah, Alvaro? Remember. Remember what happened when we were horny teenagers and we shared a hotel room in – in Valencia, and in Barcelona?”

“Yeah?” Alvaro closed his eyes and pressed his head into the pillow. His breath had caught in his throat. Of _course_ he remembered. Every single time Alvaro had jerked off since then, he’d been comparing it to those two times. And none had come close. “You wanna. You wanna do that?”

“We’re not even gonna touch each other, yeah? It doesn’t count?”

“It’s still…is it still sex?”

“C’mon. C’mon. At this point I don’t even care if anyone finds out. This is…this is the best we can do.”

“Okay, yeah,” Alvaro said, because he just _couldn’t_. He was going to _explode_ from all the desire in the world that had decided to have a massive gathering deep down in his belly.

“Yeah? Yeah?” Paulo sighed. Alvaro saw him slide his hand under the waistband of his underwear and start stroking his own dick. “Okay. Okay, c’mon, let’s go.”

Alvaro slid his underwear off and took his dick in his hand. He was already like, three-quarters of the way there, and all it took was a few strokes to give himself a full hard-on. He started slowly, working up the rhythm he was so used to; he alternated between curling his fingers tight and teasing the area underneath the head. He felt that jolt of electricity, the one he hadn’t felt for _years_ , the last time being the time he’d jerked off with Paulo on the phone. That jolt of electricity he’d only ever felt three times in his life, but would _always remember_. It hit him like a bolt of lightning, the nostalgia and familiarity and _intensity_ of it, and Alvaro was temporarily blinded by a flash of white.

“Shut up,” Paulo gasped, and that was when Alvaro realised he’d made a sound of some sort. “Everyone’s gonna hear us.”

“ _You_ shut up,” Alvaro managed to reply. He craned his neck towards Paulo’s direction and saw Paulo’s cock already rock hard and glistening with a mixture of spit and precome – and holy _crap_ , it was fucking _hot_. Alvaro gave a soft moan as he returned his attention to himself, quickening his own rhythm.

And then it was Paulo’s turn to give a soft tortured sound, and he sounded like he had his fist in his mouth – which he did, Alvaro found out as he turned to Paulo again. Alvaro curled his fingers tighter around his length. He was. He was so close. And watching Paulo, watching Paulo do it, it was pushing him closer, closer, so _close_ to the edge.

“Paulo,” he called in a weak whisper, but still managed to catch Paulo’s attention. “Paulo. Look at me.”

Paulo removed his hand from his mouth, lifted his head off the pillow, and turned to Alvaro, their eyes locking, and. And the look on his face turned from desperate and impatient to _affectionate and passionate_ , and Alvaro just. This was hot. This was really, really hot, watching each other jerking themselves off, pretending – pretending that they were together, on the same bed, jerking _each other_ off. This far surpassed whatever that had happened in Valencia and Barcelona – in fact, whatever happened there seemed so trivial, so long ago, so _amateur_ compared to what Alvaro and Paulo were doing right then, what they _still had_ right then, after six years.

Paulo’s free hand clutched wildly at the sheets under him; Alvaro’s hand mirrored it, searching for something to grasp and failing. Alvaro gritted his teeth in a bid to not make a sound. He was shaking, Alvaro was fucking _shaking_ and his hand was beginning to ache but he liked the little bubble he was in, the little bubble he was in _with Paulo_ , and he didn’t know if he wanted it to end this quickly.

“Alvaro,” Paulo called. He sounded really far away. “Alvaro. Alvi. Don’t look away from me. Open your eyes.”

Alvaro opened his eyes; he didn’t even realise they were closed. He ran his gaze feverishly along Paulo’s body, lingering at Paulo’s hand, Paulo’s soft, gentle hand currently teasing his own slit, and.

And Alvaro came, a few hard, tough strokes later Alvaro came, free hand stuffed in his mouth to stop himself from yelling. To stop himself from finding some sort of verbal release to pair with the physical release he was experiencing, one that seemed like an out-of-body experience, with Alvaro’s lower body feeling like it had burst into flames and his come splattered all over his abdomen. Alvaro thrust his hips up into his tired hand a few more times, a soft little whine escaping from his mouth as his dick went limp again.

His vision was tinged with a little red at the sides when he turned back to Paulo, and Alvaro legitimately thought he was going to pass out or something. He saw Paulo strain to see him, to see what Alvaro had _done_ to himself. He saw Paulo’s gaze lock on his face again before it faltered into a weak stare when Paulo achieved his own orgasm. Paulo’s hips stuttered as he turned his face towards the pillow under him, free hand used to stuff a handful of it into his mouth. He ran his thumb over his slit, teased the underneath of his head, and fucking milked himself dry as Alvaro watched. His stuttering hips lost regularity as he descended, his face completely red when he removed it from his pillow.

“Wow,” Alvaro whispered, letting his head fall back on his pillow.

Paulo took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself before he said, “It’s still the same.”

“It is,” Alvaro said in awe. “And it’s better.”

“Alvaro, I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“You think they heard anything?” Paulo asked.

“No,” Alvaro said. “We’re pretty good at this, don’t you think?”

“Yeah?” Paulo chuckled. “Yeah. If the people around us in Barcelona and Valencia didn’t hear us, then Gigi and Leo won’t hear us, either.”

“’Cause they’re old and have bad ears,” Alvaro said lazily. If Gigi and Leo could hear them, Alvaro was sure they’d be yelling angrily through the wall right then. They weren’t, so he and Paulo were in the clear. “Hey, dibs on the shower.”

“What,” Paulo said sadly. He sounded thoroughly exhausted. “Alvi, it’s been six and a half years. We’re boyfriends now. And you still want dibs on the shower?”

“Okay, okay,” Alvaro laughed. He relented, because how could he not, when Paulo put it like that. “Just for memories’ sake.”

“You can get dibs on the soap.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. Paulo was so adorable. “C’mon, I’ll soap you first.”

“Yeah, that can be our new dibs,” Paulo mused as he got up slowly and dragged himself to the bathroom with Alvaro following. “Dibs on soaping the other. Sounds good.”

Paulo seemed to melt right into Alvaro’s arms when the warm water hit them. He pressed his cheek into Alvaro’s collarbones and smiled peacefully as Alvaro struggled to soap him.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered as he pulled Paulo under the stream of water to wash him clean. “You’re happy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered back, lifting his head. He pressed Alvaro’s wet hair back on his head and ran his fingers in circles along Alvaro’s stubble. “Alvaro. I spent all those years trying to find myself, and. And now I have. I found myself with you and I swear, Alvaro Borja Morata, I have never been happier in my entire life.”

“That’s great,” Alvaro smiled. He’d watched Paulo grow up, literally, and he’d watched Paulo fumble with every step of his life, and now Paulo was _happy_ and Alvaro couldn’t be any prouder. “That’s really great, Pau.”

“And you?” Paulo took the soap and started on Alvaro. “You’re happy?”

“I am,” Alvaro said. “I’m so, so, so happy.”

Paulo smiled. “That’s all I’ve ever needed to hear.”

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro said. “For…making you wait.”

Paulo sighed. He distracted himself for a few moments with spreading the soap in circles on Alvaro’s chest. “Alvi, we’ve been through this,” he finally said. “I did love you, yeah, I’ve loved you for a long time, and I know you’ve been dealing with loving me for equally long, but. Just because we loved each other didn’t mean we could be together, yeah? We were like, sixteen, there was the Atlantic between us, and it never would have worked because you hate long-distance relationships, and. Alvaro. Don’t blame yourself.”

“But when you came to Italy. When you came to Sicily –“

“You were in Madrid. And then in Turin, and we were close, yeah, but. But we were still apart, and still young, Alvaro, our lives had just gotten started. If you think about it, the states of mind we were both in…we weren’t ready for any sort of relationship with each other, Alvaro, much less a long-distance one. And you know that’s not why I was upset with you. That wasn’t the reason. I was perfectly fine knowing I would probably never have you, I was used to dealing with it. It was…it was that last part.”

“I know. You were upset with me because…because of the whole saying-I’ll-give-you-the-World-Cup thing. You were fine with me…not saying I’ll give it.”

“Yeah, but that’s over too, now, yeah?” Paulo gently stroked Alvaro’s cheeks. “Alvaro, I know you’re upset when you think of this. But just. Just try not to be, yeah? I really, really, honestly, cross my heart, don’t blame you for making me wait, and I’ve already forgiven you about a hundred times over for every other thing you’re upset about. I promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and if you mope about this for a second longer, I’ll be really, really mad.”

“Really, really mad, huh?” Alvaro smiled. He kissed Paulo on his wet nose. “I wonder how that’s like.”

“Alvaro, just. Let's just not talk about this anymore, okay? I promise, everything’s good, we’re starting afresh, sort of.”

“Okay,” Alvaro agreed. He felt like a random helicopter had just come by and lifted a boulder off his shoulders. Which would’ve been creepy, given they were in the shower, but. But Alvaro was taking it. “I love you, favourite person.”

“Love you, too,” Paulo smiled. “Don’t be upset. I hate that you’re always upset.”

“I’m not always upset.”

“You’ve been in a constant state of ‘upset’ since I met you, Alvaro.”

Alvaro pouted, which he realised only seemed to fuel Paulo’s side of the argument, so he scraped it. He let Paulo soap him all over and wash him off. They dried each other with soft towels, put on their pyjamas, and crawled into their respective beds.

“Night, Alvi,” Paulo called.

“Night, Pau,” Alvaro smiled. “Hey, if we lose tomorrow, I’m blaming you and all your horniness.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo said, and Alvaro could hear the smile in his voice.

Alvaro fell asleep with a similar smile on his face.

\------

They won their game against Sampdoria, so on their second away trip in the same week to Udine Paulo’s superstition kicked in.

“We gotta do that thing again,” Paulo said, ridiculously urgently, as they got back to their room after dinner. “So we’ll win again.”

“What?” Alvaro asked as Paulo shoved him down on his bed.

“You know,” Paulo said, shimmying out of his trousers and getting into his own bed. “Jerk off.”

“I’m not, you know,” Alvaro slowly took off his pants. He didn’t, like, _need it._ And it was pretty evident that Paulo didn’t, either, because his dick flopped over on his abdomen when he took his underwear off. “Hard.”

Paulo sighed. “Me, neither.”

“Why don’t you come over and make me?”

Paulo froze for a few seconds before propping his head up on his elbow and staring over at Alvaro. “You want me to go over there?” Paulo asked, like it was some forbidden room or whatever.

“Why not?” Alvaro said. He decided to get a tiny head start by starting to stroke himself. “It’s not, like, real sex.”

And Paulo didn’t need another word, just stood up and walked over to Alvaro’s bed. He stood there for a few silent moments just looking at Alvaro, his hand moving on his dick to the same rhythm Alvaro’s hand was moving on his own. His gaze darkened when he met Alvaro’s eyes.

Paulo climbed into bed over Alvaro, straddling him. He thrust his hips a little, rubbing his length along Alvaro’s abdomen. He bent over and kissed Alvaro, slowly working Alvaro’s lips apart and letting his tongue mingle with Alvaro’s. He thrust his hips again, this time backwards, so his butt nudged Alvaro’s dick, waking it slightly from its slumber. His hands moved to caress every inch of Alvaro’s skin starting from his shoulders, across his chest, and down his ribs. His lips left Alvaro’s to trace a little path down Alvaro’s neck and sternum, and –

And _then_ to Alvaro’s nipples, lips gently brushing over them before Paulo’s tongue, slick and wet, ran over them. Alvaro grasped a handful of Paulo’s hair, just. Just so fucking _overwhelmed_ and taken aback by what the fuck was happening.

“Holy shit, fuck, shit,” Alvaro sputtered, hands violently gripping a fistful of Paulo’s hair. His hips left the bed, desperate to find some contact, some friction for his cock. He was hard, Alvaro was hard, and he had never gone from literally zero to _rock hard_ this fucking quickly. And Paulo. Paulo was fucking _good at this_. “Paulo. Paulo.”

Paulo’s lips re-traced the path they came from until they landed on Alvaro’s lips again. “You there yet?”

“Fuck, yes,” Alvaro moaned, embarrassingly desperate, through gritted teeth. He wanted release. He wanted Paulo to give him release, with his hand, with his mouth, with fucking whatever. “Paulo. Please.”

Paulo sat upright, giving his own hips a few thrusts. He had a semi and it was like, right in Alvaro’s fucking face, and Alvaro knew if he tried to blow Paulo, Paulo would be mad, that fucking _weirdo_ , because it’d count as sex and Paulo was a sucker for following rules. So Alvaro curled his fingers around Paulo’s dick and started to stroke him, and Paulo’s hands stopped groping Alvaro’s and settled on his shoulders instead, his fingers tightening as Alvaro sped up.

“You good?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo shifted his attention from Alvaro jerking him off to Alvaro himself, his eyes settling on Alvaro’s face with the sort of affection Alvaro was so familiar with yet never failed to crave. He nodded and smiled, and Alvaro’s heart melted into a little puddle of goo.

Alvaro ran his thumb over Paulo’s slit and felt Paulo buckle, the tiniest whimper escaping his lips. He ran his hand up and down Paulo’s dick, slow and hard, and did it again over Paulo’s slit. Paulo buckled again, his hips folding over on Alvaro’s abdomen as his lips crashed into Alvaro’s, hot and wet and breathing open-mouthed, “Fuck, fuck.”

Paulo was still the same. Paulo was still the same and he still liked the same things he did when they’d first tried this and for some reason, it calmed Alvaro. It calmed Alvaro knowing that Paulo would always be Paulo, and Paulo would always be his.

Alvaro moved his other hand to cup Paulo’s balls, and. And Paulo had like, an immediate breakdown. His hands moved to clutch both sides of Alvaro’s head, hard, his lips desperately working on Alvaro’s, soft little tortured noises occasionally escaping him. His fingers dug into Alvaro’s scalp as Alvaro continued, tough and steady but with the kind of painfully slow strokes Paulo loved. His hands moved around desperately, searching and failing to find some other part of Alvaro to grab on to, as Alvaro teased his slit again, over and over again, until Paulo finally caved, his entire body _shaking_ as his come landed all over Alvaro’s hand and chest and abdomen.

“Fuck,” Paulo whined lowly, his head pressed on Alvaro’s chin as he examined the result. “Oh, fuck.”

Alvaro’s clean hand moved to Paulo’s hair while the other, covered in all of Paulo’s mess, moved to his mouth. He tugged at Paulo’s hair so Paulo could see him lick Paulo’s come off his fingers. Paulo squeezed his eyes shut but opened them a millisecond later because he didn’t want to miss a fucking _second_ of _that_.

“Fuck,” he said again.

“My turn, yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo smiled. He climbed off Alvaro, off the bed, and knelt down on the floor next to Alvaro, taking Alvaro’s dick one hand, the fingers of the other gently slipping in between Alvaro’s fingers. And if Alvaro were to be honest, he didn’t need much at all.

All he needed was Paulo to work him the way he knew Alvaro had always needed, hard and strong and almost violent. All he needed was Paulo’s fingers, curled tightly around his dick, to give a few quick strokes, stopping only to tease the underneath of the head – before Alvaro came, hips arched off the bed, sparks flying in front of his eyes, free hand clutching a fistful of his sheets and the other squeezing the blood supply from Paulo’s.

“Holy shit,” Alvaro gasped. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“Shhh, baby,” Paulo whispered, and Alvaro opened his eyes to see Paulo fucking _licking_ the come off his fingers _and Alvaro’s abdomen_ , just. Just casually running his tongue along Alvaro’s skin, like it was a normal thing to do.

“Paulo. Paulo.”

Paulo climbed back on the bed and collapsed against Alvaro, his hand still tightly clutching Alvaro’s. He had this proud look on his face, like he was really satisfied with his handiwork. Literally, handiwork. “This was so fucking good.”

“I know,” Alvaro sighed, exhausted. “I know.”

“Hope that means we win big tomorrow.”

“Fuck you, is that what I am now?” Alvaro playfully shoved Paulo aside. “Your toy to play with so you can win your next match?”

“No,” Paulo said happily. “You’re mine. Just. _Mine_.”

Alvaro smiled. There was this feeling in his chest, like a little worm burrowing its way through Alvaro’s heart. And that little worm was. It was Paulo.

“C’mon, let’s go shower,” he said before Paulo could fall asleep, that pig.

“Dibs on the soap,” Paulo said drowsily as Alvaro dragged him upright.

Alvaro rolled his eyes. He let Paulo soap him first, sleepily but surprisingly sturdily. Paulo’s eyes were already half-closed, but there was this beautiful, loving smile on his face, a smile that Alvaro knew was only reserved for him.

“Hey,” Alvaro whispered. “Have you, you know. Thought about this? The jerking off thing? I mean, since we started rooming together last year.”

“Honestly?” Paulo smiled shyly. “Yeah, I have. But…but I thought it would’ve been weird to bring it up, so I didn’t.”

Alvaro thought about it for a little while – yeah, it would have definitely been weird. But if Paulo _had_ brought it up, Alvaro didn’t know if he would have agreed to do it. And that was why, after all the recent happenings, after his world had been thoroughly flipped, Alvaro still hadn’t gotten a grip on himself, on _who he was_ , on whether he was truly a good person.

He sighed as the stream of warm water landed on him, along with Paulo’s hands scrubbing him clean. He caught Paulo peering up at him, eyes bright and curious for a second before his gaze collapsed into a loving, encouraging smile, like he wasn’t completely sure _why_ Alvaro was troubled, he just knew Alvaro _was_ , and he wanted to make it better.

“This a thing now?” was all Alvaro managed to say when he found his voice again.

“If we win tomorrow, yeah,” Paulo said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. He ended up laughing softly, entertained by his own words. “Just kidding. If you want it to be, Alvi.”

Of course Alvaro wanted it to be. “Yeah, just don’t let me catch you googling if handjobs count as sex.”

“They do,” Paulo said quietly. He passed Alvaro the soap. “I, uh. Paid for them. Before.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro’s voice wobbled as he said. He distracted himself by lathering the soap all over Paulo. His heart broke into a million little tiny pieces whenever he thought of Paulo at bars, at clubs, at _anywhere_ , places where he desperately tried to get laid, to figure out what he wanted. To figure out what else he _could want_ , because he couldn’t want Alvaro. “Why didn’t you stop me when I said it isn’t real sex?”

“Would you have wanted me to stop you?”

“No,” Alvaro said, almost immediately. Paulo gave another little laugh, and Alvaro added, “So you _knew_ , and now we’re breaking the rules _voluntarily_?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “We’re a couple of rebels, aren’t we?”

“Always been,” Alvaro smiled. He grasped Paulo’s chin and pressed his lips gently on Paulo’s. “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have this problem…the thing with the rules. Did you have it with Franco?”

Paulo froze with his hands on Alvaro’s chest, his eyes darting anxiously around like he hadn’t seen this coming at all. “We, um.”

“No, hey, I was just asking,” Alvaro said. “It isn’t a big deal. You don’t have to answer me.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Paulo finally said. “I mean, I guess a few of our teammates knew, but it really wasn’t a big deal as long as we were okay on the pitch and during training. Which we were. Because the thing with Franco is…he compartmentalises things really well. And I guess the thing we had, it was easy to push it aside when it mattered because. Because feelings weren’t involved. That’s why no one thought it was a big deal. Because we all knew how Franco’s like, and the whole thing…the whole thing, it just wasn’t a big thing. There were no rules, the captain wasn’t involved, and everything.”

“So…so why is it so big here?”

“Because it’s a big club, Alvi,” Paulo smiled. “A really, really big club. I guess…if things about us were to get out there, it would be a million times much bigger than if things about me and Franco had gotten out there. Because…because it’s Juve, Alvaro. It’s just. It’s not that simple over here.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro sighed. He pushed Paulo under the shower stream and watched the water wash the suds off his skin. “Yeah.”

“And you know what the biggest difference is?”

“What?”

“The feelings,” Paulo whispered, this. This really angelic smile on his face, so thoroughly _innocent_ and pure and. And Alvaro loved him so fucking much. Paulo looked so young in that moment, like a child, even though he was spouting fucking words of wisdom; and this was what Alvaro loved the most about him. His maturity. His ability to read every situation honestly and truthfully and tell it as it was. His ability to make Alvaro feel so incredibly safe. “It’s you and me, Alvaro. _You and me._ We’ve always been…we’ve always been different from anyone else. You and me, we’ve always been different from me and Franco. You know Paul, Simo, Gigi and whoever. They wouldn’t care so much if they didn’t know that this…this thing between us, it’s real. That we aren’t just hooking up or being fuck buddies or whatever. If it was only physical, it wouldn’t matter so much if one day we stopped doing this altogether. They know it’s real, they know that the stakes are really high and they know there’s a chance we’ll get hurt and screw up all our football. That’s why they care so much.”

“And they’re right,” Alvaro mumbled. He pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head. “Yeah? They’re right.”

“They are,” Paulo’s hand found one of Alvaro’s, his wet fingers clinging on tightly. “And I love that they are. I love that they’ve always got our backs. Don’t you think…that this is the kind of support we need?”

“It is,” Alvaro smiled. “At least now we know we can’t fuck shit up because we’ll get fucked up before we even get the chance to.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it,” Paulo laughed.

“I love our little shower talks, Pau.”

“Me, too.”

“And I have the smartest boyfriend in the entire world.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo said, and he was blushing even though the warm water had been turned off and they were drying themselves.

“Are we doing something bad?” Alvaro asked, dragging his shorts on. “You know, because they trust us, and we’re, you know. Still goofing around.”

“I guess they’ll back off when they realise we can deal with it ourselves,” Paulo shrugged. “Alvi. We don’t have to do this all the time, you know? I mean, if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, we’ll see, yeah?” Alvaro smiled, because _duh_ , he wanted to. It was just. It depended on the situation. Maybe if Paulo was right and it was good luck.

They got out of the bathroom silently and both crawled into Paulo’s bed because it was clean – didn’t need to say anything to each other, but they just _knew_ and they just _did._ And Alvaro fell asleep all curled up in Paulo’s arms, a smile on his face because he knew Paulo was going to help him figure the world out.

\------

When Paulo scored against Udinese the next day the first person he thought of was Alvaro.

He skipped – literally _skipped_ – his way to the sidelines and met Alvaro in the air as they both jumped. He wrapped his arms around Alvaro as Alvaro whispered, the only words Paulo could hear in all the noise around him, “Fuck, Pau, we’re going to do this every single fucking time.”

And Paulo felt his heart soar, not because he knew he was going to get an orgasm before every away match, but. But because he _loved Alvaro_ , and Alvaro made him feel so fucking _alive_ , and they were going to do their little shower talk routine all the time and Paulo just. He felt so warm inside.

“I love you, Alvaro Morata,” he mouthed as he returned to the pitch, giving Alvaro a little wave. He missed Alvaro being on the pitch with him, if he were to be honest. He wished Alvaro got more chances to play. But it didn’t change, not one bit, how much Paulo loved him and how proud Paulo was of him. How proud Paulo was to play in the same team as his Alvaro.

“Love you, too,” Alvaro mouthed back, and he had this affectionate look on his face, like he was trying his very best not to go over and just smooch Paulo on the lips. Like he was on top of the world.

Paulo was, too.


	35. My God, Amazing How We Got This Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, bad news (?).......I might need to extend the story again, it's taking longer to write about everything I want to write about than I actually planned. I'm thinking 47 chapters in total (45 + prologue and epilogue). I don't really want to increase the chapter length because I'm updating once-twice a week and don't want to bombard you guys with 25-page long chapters. I've made them a liiiiittle (2-3 pages) longer, though, and I'll continue this frequency (at least once a week). Please let me know what you think, if this story is getting too long and boring, or anything at all, I'd love to hear from you. If you want, you can find me on tumblr [here](http://incredybala.tumblr.com) or twitter [here](https://twitter.com/debushy). Thank you so much!
> 
> Title is from Secrets by OneRepublic.

Paulo and Alvaro’s high literally did not even last a week.

After their home win against Roma they both received a very official-looking email from Gigi, with Allegri and a few other board members cc-ed. It read that Paulo and Alvaro were to be present at a meeting in the Vinovo conference room before their next training session the next day.

They were together when they saw the email on their phones, snuggled up together on Alvaro’s couch. By the end of the email, they were both sitting upright, a thigh-width gap between them.

“What?” Alvaro whispered at his phone. He was suddenly hit by this staggering wind of. Of _fear_.

“Alvi,” Paulo wheezed between his teeth. “Alvi. Alvi.”

“What is this?”

“They know. They _know_.”

“ _How_?”

“Alvi. Alvi, are we in trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

Paulo stared wordlessly at his phone for a few minutes, fingers restlessly scrolling up and down over and over again, like it would unlock some secret attachment explaining _what the fuck was happening_. It didn’t.

Then he turned to Alvaro and said, “Well, this was fun. We lasted exactly one month, I guess that’s a long time, longer than some of your girlfriends, maybe, but. Well. Goodbye, Alvaro.”

Alvaro stared at him for a few moments, just. Just. “Paulo, don’t you dare fuck around with me.”

Paulo’s shoulders slumped. He dumped his phone on the table and lay down on the couch, away from Alvaro, head on the armrest and legs curled up on himself. “They can’t do that, right?” Paulo asked softly. “They can’t break us up. It’s got to be against some rules or rights or something.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. “Yeah.”

“But what if they can? What if they do?”

“Then I’ll grab your hand and run somewhere really far away.”

Paulo lifted his head off the armrest to look over at Alvaro, a slightly surprised look on his face. “You would?” he asked.

“I would,” Alvaro said. And he meant it. As he said those two words, he was suddenly struck by how much he actually really, truly meant it. He finally understood how Paulo had felt all those years. The wanting, the wishing that they could run away together to avoid all of this crap.

Alvaro was scared, he was still scared _stiff_ of what would happen to his and Paulo’s footballing lives, but. But he was beginning to see more and more of the reasons why he shouldn’t be.

“I thought you’d – you’d never –“

“I would,” Alvaro repeated. “I’m not scared, Paulo, or…or less scared. In this entire month we’ve been together, you’ve…you’ve taught me not to be scared. You’ve given me so many reasons not to be scared.”

Paulo flipped himself over so he was lying on his side with his head in Alvaro’s lap instead, his hands grabbing hold of one of Alvaro’s hands. Alvaro threaded the fingers of his other hand through Paulo’s hair. “Alvaro, I love you,” Paulo said.

“I love you, Pau.”

“We’re going to be okay, yeah?” Paulo whispered, desperate.

“We are,” Alvaro promised. He was going to keep Paulo safe, just like he’d always promised himself.

“I feel like,” Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. “I feel like I’m going to screw everything up again.”

“You aren’t. I won’t let you.”

“If you want to back out –“

“No.”

“– you should, and I’m sorry that I –“

“Paulo, stop.”

“– made you get into this relationship with me.”

“You didn’t _make me do anything_ , Paulo. I got into this because I chose to. And I’m not going to back out. If we get shit, we’re getting it together. Hasn’t it always been this way? It’s going to _always_ be this way.”

“Yeah?” Paulo let go of Alvaro’s hand and wrapped his arms around one of Alvaro’s knees. “We’re always going be together?”

“Always,” Alvaro promised.

“What if…what if one day you get sick of me? If you – if you stop loving me?”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sighed. Paulo was still. He was still the same insecure little boy Alvaro had known for so long. _Nothing_ had changed. Alvaro had always had to help Paulo be brave, and now he had to do double duty – be brave himself _and_ help Paulo be brave. It was going to be a tough ride ahead, but. But Alvaro wanted to do this. He wanted to do this for Paulo. “It’s been six and a half years and I haven’t gotten sick of you. I think this means I won’t ever.”

Paulo went quiet. His eyes remained shut, but his fingers started to trace little circles on Alvaro’s knee. It tickled a little, but it was reassuring. Paulo’s touch was reassuring.

Alvaro placed his other hand on Paulo’s cheek. “Hey,” he started softly. “You don’t have to say anything to me, but I know. I know you think I’m not ready for this. _I_ think I’m not ready for this. But I _will be,_ Paulo, I _promise you_. Since a month ago, since the first day, we’ve…we’ve been talking about this. I’m in, Pau, _I’m all in_ , I can’t possibly be more in than I am right now. I’m not going to let this go because if I do, then everything I’ve ever been afraid of – it’ll all happen, too. It’s the biggest irony, you know? If I let you go, then…then I’ll ruin both our lives, too, just in a much more horrible way. I know it seems like we can’t win either way, but. But we can. As long as I’m with you, I’ve won, Paulo.”

Paulo’s fingers stopped moving over Alvaro’s knee. Paulo stopped moving, just clutched at Alvaro’s leg like his life depended on it. He didn’t say a word, still, and a couple of seconds later Alvaro felt a teardrop land on his lap.

“Please don’t cry,” Alvaro whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You’re all in, huh?” Paulo whispered back. He turned on his back and smiled up at Alvaro through his veil of tears. “Adidas chose the right man.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said, but. But tenderly. He gently wiped the tears off Paulo’s cheeks.

“We’re going to do this?” Paulo asked, his voice thick. “We’re going to talk to Allegri, and we’re going to tell him about us, and we’re…we’re going to be okay?”

“We are,” Alvaro said, though he wasn’t even completely sure himself. But he had to suck it all up. He’d spent too long trying to brush all of this off and now, it was time for Alvaro to fucking _fight for it_. After all, Paulo had never gotten into trouble in school, ever. Alvaro was supposed to be the one who was more used to dealing with these things.

“Could you do all the talking?” Paulo asked. “I mean, if you want to. I just. I just feel that you’d be better at it, and also, like. I feel like the stakes are so much higher for you, because your family doesn’t know about us, and I just want you to make all the decisions, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. “If you want to tell Allegri, how much you want to tell him…it’s all up to you.”

“They’re not going to make us break up, okay?”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered. He didn’t sound too convinced.

They got their phones again and replied to the email. They settled on the couch again in the positions they had been in before they’d received the email, and they stayed that way for the rest of the day, silently. There were probably a million thoughts running through Paulo’s mind, the same way they were running through Alvaro’s.

By the time evening came Alvaro had come up with a game plan: he was going to tell the truth. He was going to tell the whole truth and he was going to work the time factor – the fact that he and Paulo had been dealing with this for the past six years, so they _knew_ this was what they wanted. They knew this was what they wanted, and they knew how they were going to deal with it, because football always came first, it had always come first for Paulo and Alvaro. Football was the thing that brought them together, and football was the thing that was going to hold them together.

When he told Paulo all of that, all Paulo did was smile. He smiled at Alvaro, sadly but proudly, and he burrowed his face back into Alvaro’s shoulder, like he was afraid this was going to be his last chance to be held by Alvaro.

\------

Paulo was unusually quiet all the way to Vinovo. He just sat in the passenger seat next to Alvaro and gazed straight ahead, an unreadable expression on his face. Sure, the meeting was at eight in the morning, but Alvaro had watched Paulo down three whole cups of black coffee. He shouldn’t have been the zombie he was right then.

He took Paulo’s hand as they got out of the car and walked into the building. Paulo didn’t even shake him off, like he usually did because he didn’t want anyone to see. It just. It broke Alvaro’s heart. This was exactly what Alvaro had been so afraid of. Of turning Paulo’s world so thoroughly upside down that Paulo didn’t even know what to do anymore. Alvaro felt like he was stuck in a rut. Going backward wasn’t an option, now that he had Paulo. And going forward wasn’t an option that had materialised just yet.

They stopped around the corner from the conference room. Alvaro took both of Paulo’s hands and squeezed them. “Paulo,” he whispered. “I just want to let you know that no matter what happens, I’ll still be here. I love you, and I’ll always be here for you, I’ll always love you, yeah, Paulo?”

Paulo nodded, avoiding Alvaro’s gaze. “And I want you to know, too, Alvaro,” he said softly, his voice breaking at the end of Alvaro’s name. “That if I could choose how my life gets ruined, if I had a choice,” he stopped to lift Alvaro’s hand to his lips. “I’d choose it to be ruined this way, with you.”

Alvaro kissed Paulo on the lips, told him he loved him, and then let go of him as they rounded the corner separately.

They entered the room to see Allegri flanked by two board members already waiting for them. Gigi was sitting to one side. There were two empty chairs across Allegri. Two chairs for Paulo and Alvaro.

They sat down quietly. The entire room seemed to be filled with some kind of hot, tense air, and Alvaro’s buttoned shirt suddenly seemed suffocating. Allegri was looking over at them, the expression on his face not exactly unfriendly, but. But not exactly the friendliest, either. It was more of a curious expression.

“Morning, boys,” he said kindly.

“Morning, sir,” Alvaro said. Paulo just nodded and smiled.

“Let’s just cut straight to the chase here,” Allegri cleared his throat. He adjusted a few sheets of paper that were sitting on the table in front of him. “I’m sure you have an idea of what I called you in here to talk about.”

Alvaro glanced at Paulo. Paulo gave him a subtle nod, the corners of his lips twitching upwards just the slightest.

“Yes,” Alvaro said, just loud enough to be heard.

“First, I would like to say that no one ratted you out. You’re here because I’ve noticed some things, I’ve heard some things, and I’d just like to clear it up with you. This is not a punishment or an interrogation, and I hope you understand, in all the time you have been here, that this is a very supportive community that we have built and I hope that you will be completely truthful with me.”

Alvaro and Paulo nodded.

“As you know, your private lives usually do not concern us,” Allegri continued. “But from what I have heard and observed, if this is true, it has a very large impact on the entire club, the team, and our image. So I just need to know the truth, the simple truth, and nothing more, if you are not willing to share.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said.

Allegri leaned forward, his elbows on the table. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look sad or disappointed. He just looked like. Like a man who wanted to know some answers and help take some responsibility. It calmed Alvaro down a little. He reached under the table and found Paulo’s hand, gently wrapping his slightly sweaty fingers around it. Paulo’s hand was cold and clammy but Alvaro clung to it with all the strength he had.

“Alvaro, Paulo, are the two of you in a romantic relationship?”

Alvaro turned to Paulo again only to find Paulo already looking over at him. Paulo turned his hand and slid his fingers in between Alvaro’s, giving a weak squeeze. And in that moment, in that very moment, Alvaro felt so incredibly brave.

He turned back to Allegri, and he said, “Yes.”

The room became even more silent than it had been before, even though that didn’t seem possible. No one moved. No one seemed to dare to breathe.

“Okay,” Allegri finally said, popping the tension. “Okay, good. Thanks for being honest with us.”

When he didn’t continue – Alvaro didn’t know, like, he’d expected Allegri to start a tirade against how this was wrong and that they shouldn’t do this – Alvaro said, “Um, yeah. Okay.”

“This whole thing, it’s,” Allegri waved his hand around slightly. “It’s very new to all of us. It hasn’t happened before, I don’t think, and that’s why the boundaries we have aren’t very clear right now. I wish to intrude on your private lives only as little as I need to.”

“You’re not going to, uh,” Alvaro started. “Break us up?”

Allegri stared at him, then at Paulo, like. Like they were crazy. “No, I’m not.”

“But –“ Alvaro started, but realised he had nothing to say, so he just shrugged.

“It’s your right to participate in any relationship that you deem fit for yourself,” Allegri said slowly, and Alvaro wondered if he had a script or something, because everything he said sounded very formal. “But, as I was about to get into, you are both part of our club and so we have at least partial responsibility for how you represent our club to the public. We are also concerned about how this will affect your performance on the pitch. And so today, this is a discussion, a very open, friendly discussion, about what we all think about this relationship and how it will affect your work here in Juventus. And ‘we all’ includes the both of you.”

Alvaro gulped down the lump in his throat. His head was spinning. This wasn’t the direction he saw the meeting heading, but he couldn’t say this wasn’t a satisfying direction for it to head. But before he could even think of anything to say, Paulo started to speak.

“Alvaro and I have known each other for more than six years,” Paulo started shakily. “We met in June 2009 and we’ve been best friends ever since. And there’s one thing that has always been strikingly clear and consistent over all these years – and that is the importance of football to the both of us. Football has always been number one, no matter what else is happening in our lives. And that…that’s going to continue.”

“We got together a month ago,” Alvaro continued, finding strength from Paulo’s words. “It seems like a short time, but it’s only the result from what has happened in the six years that preceded it. This entire month, it’s been waiting to happen for six years. It’s not something we’ve rushed into without thinking about – trust us, we’ve done way too much thinking about this. But the bottom line is, Paulo and I know each other very, very well, both on the pitch and off it. We each know what the other needs, what the other wants. And this relationship happens to fall under both those categories. We understand that it poses a lot of problems for you. But we want to say that we are confident that we will be able to keep our private lives separate from what happens on the pitch, just like we have over all these years of our complicated friendship and relationship with each other.”

Allegri nodded. He looked a little proud, like Alvaro and Paulo were his two sons preparing for battle. “And what is your plan regarding the publicity of your relationship?”

“Publicity?” Alvaro asked. He hadn’t even thought about that. When it came to their relationship, Paulo and Alvaro had always silently but mutually agreed to stay on the secretive side.

“Do you want to let the public know about your relationship?” Allegri asked. “If you plan on doing so, we need to come up with a way to tell them. A way to emphasize that it changes nothing about our performance and about your positions in our team roster.”

“We haven’t thought about that,” Alvaro said truthfully.

“Letting the public find out on their own might not put us on their good side,” Allegri said. “It might be better for us to be honest and open right from the start instead of trying to hide things. But that being said, it’s up to you, and we should all also consider the mindsets that the public have about relationships between teammates.”

“We’ll have to talk about that again,” Alvaro said. “Uh, me and Paulo. With our agents.”

“Okay, good,” Allegri smiled. He reached for the papers in front of him and picked up two separate stapled stacks of two pages each, and slid them across the table towards Paulo and Alvaro. “This isn’t a contract or agreement or anything of that sort. This is just a set of rough rules, or guidelines, that Gigi and I have sat down and come up with regarding the both of you. This is all terribly new to us, as you already know, and we have no other cases to refer to, so this is just a very small set of rules that I hope we can all agree to. It’s not infringing on any of your rights, I hope. Please read through it and we can talk about it again next week.”

“Next week?” Alvaro asked.

“We should stay connected about this whole thing. You need to get back to us about the publicity issue, and I don’t need you to sign on these rules but I need to know what you think about it and whether you need us to remove anything you’re violently objecting to.”

“Oh,” Alvaro said. Paulo was currently staring at the page with a very adorable dazed look on his face. “Okay, sure.”

“And another thing,” Allegri continued. “Sorry to sound harsh, I know you’ve tried to assure me that football is first, but we have to know this, just in case. In the case of a breakup, are you still confident of everything you’ve said?”

Alvaro turned to Paulo again. He didn’t want to imagine a breakup with Paulo. In the entire month they’d been together, Alvaro had never once thought about it. And he knew, he _knew_ he would _never_ get tired of Paulo, never want to break up with him. But he didn’t know where Paulo stood in all of this.

He turned to Paulo, though, and Paulo was gazing at him with a look of worry in his eyes that told Alvaro he was thinking of the same things Alvaro was about a potential breakup. And that was all the reassurance Alvaro needed; the knowledge once again that Paulo wanted this as much as Alvaro did.

“We’ve been waiting on this, thinking about this, pushing this back for _far too long_ to break up,” Alvaro said. “We’ve put in a lot of effort into this, and we know it’s not going to be easy, but we will try our best. And of course, a breakup would be devastating, but it will still be part of our private lives, and that will still remain separate from football.”

He turned to Paulo and smiled, and when Paulo smiled back, it was like he’d shot some warm liquid right into Alvaro’s chest and it was currently spreading all through Alvaro’s body. Alvaro was _in fucking love_ and _everything was going to be fine_ and it was the best feeling in the entire world.

“Okay, good,” Allegri said again. “This is good. That your relationship seems to be very stable so far. I’m glad I got to see you today, it’s easier to believe what you’re saying when I can see it for myself.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro said softly. His gaze travelled back to the document on the table in front of him. Paulo was still staring at it, too. Alvaro wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel scared about what was inside.

“Paulo, Alvaro,” Allegri said, and both of their heads immediately snapped up to look at him. “We’re not angry with you, neither are we condemning you for what you are doing. I personally think this is a really great step. A new, confusing, and unfortunately rare step in football, but a step forward, and I’m happy for the both of you. I know you have a great friendship and it really shows on the pitch, especially over the last month, and I’m really hopeful. Just please don’t hesitate to talk to us when you need help. Talk to me, to Gigi, or to any of our counsellors, because we are in this with you, and we’ll try to support you with anything you need. What helps you will help us too, after all.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said. He looked like he was going to cry. All Paulo had ever wanted, _everything_ Paulo had ever wanted, was acceptance. “Thank you so much.”

“Now I hope you two will focus on training and on our cup game, and show me that the faith I have in you isn’t going to go down the drain, okay?”

“Okay,” the both of them said in unison.

“Let’s all go get changed and get ready for training,” Allegri said, and then with another encouraging smile, stood up and left the room with the two board members next to him.

Gigi went over to Paulo and Alvaro and ruffled their hair fondly. “Good job, you two.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled.

“I promise no one ratted on you. Allegri is just really observant. He talked to me about it two days ago, after the match, and believe me, I got the shock of my life. I couldn’t tell you two, though, so sorry about that.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Alvaro said.

“Read the thing, yeah?” Gigi pointed at the set of rules.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “Thanks, Gigi.”

“No problem,” Gigi beamed proudly, and then left them alone in the conference room.

Paulo turned to Alvaro, just. Just gazing at him with his eyes gleaming with hope, his beautiful green eyes so happy and relieved and hopeful. Alvaro managed a little smile, which prompted Paulo to lunge over and wrap his arms tightly around him, squeezing all the breath out of Alvaro.

“I love you so much,” Alvaro whispered.

“We’re going to be okay,” Paulo sobbed. “They’re not breaking us up. We’re okay.”

“Yeah, we are,” Alvaro smiled. He pressed his face into Paulo’s hair. “We’re okay.”

“I’m so relieved, Alvi,” Paulo breathed. “I’m so relieved, I’m fucking _shaking_. Can you feel me shaking? It’s like there’s an earthquake inside me.”

Alvaro laughed. Paulo _was_ kind of quivering against Alvaro. “Yeah, I can feel you shaking, weirdo.”

“I’m so _happy_.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro pressed his lips on the top of Paulo’s head. “C’mon, let’s go get changed or we’ll be late. You wanna read these now, or after training?” he gestured to the documents on the table.

“Later, I guess,” Paulo said, standing up and grabbing Alvaro’s hand. _He could hold it now_. Allegri _knew_ and now Paulo and Alvaro could hold hands and traipse through the entire Vinovo without a care. “Alvaro, I’m just. I’m so happy.”

Alvaro smiled. He kissed Paulo on the head as they grabbed their papers and headed to the locker room. Paulo just. Paulo made him feel so brave. Paulo made him feel like nothing else in the world mattered except for the both of them, which was true, because Alvaro would be just as happy if everything were to crumble to ash, leaving only him and Paulo. Alvaro didn’t need anything else. Paulo was the only sustenance he needed.

And right then, as they stepped into the locker room and Alvaro watched Paulo start to change – right then, in that very moment, Alvaro finally completely understood what it was that made Paulo so confident that he wouldn’t care if Alvaro ruined his life. He could barely describe it, but he felt it too.

It was a feeling like. Like the centre of the universe was Paulo. That he lived his life not just for himself any longer, but for Paulo. For Paulo’s well-being. His purpose in life, his entire list of ambitions – it all shifted to Paulo. _Paulo was who he was going to live for_.

And that was why if Paulo ruined Alvaro’s life, Alvaro would not give a fuck. His entire life. It was all in Paulo’s hands, willingly.

Alvaro sat there at his locker, just. Just staring at Paulo as he obliviously continued dragging on his training clothes. The rest of the room had faded away, all their voices and their movement and everything. It was just him and Paulo.

Alvaro reached over and wrapped his arms around Paulo’s waist, dragging Paulo towards him and unintentionally causing Paulo to fall into his lap. He grabbed Paulo’s face and pressed his lips on Paulo’s, hard, and smiled when Paulo grinned against them.

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered in between kisses. “I love you so much, Paulo.”

“I love you too, baby,” Paulo breathed.

“Get a fucking room!” Alvaro heard Leo yelling as the room began to return to focus.

Alvaro turned in the direction of Leo’s voice only to see several of his other teammates desperately shushing him – needlessly, of course, because Leo was obviously joking. He was gazing over at Paulo and Alvaro with this ridiculously fond look on his face.

And this was just another thing that Alvaro had been lucky to get, but wasn’t sure he deserved. The first thing he’d ever remembered thinking of in that way was – it was meeting Paulo. Alvaro wasn’t sure what Lady Luck was fucking _thinking_ when she gifted Paulo to Alvaro. And the second thing, now, was all this support.

The both of them headed out onto the training pitch with a renewed hope, a renewed confidence – a renewed sense of where they were in their lives, and the thought that maybe the world wasn’t such a bad place after all.

\------

In their cup match against Inter the next day, Juve walked away with a huge 3-0 win.

And Paulo and Alvaro scored all three goals.

Paulo bounded up to Alvaro in the locker room and thumped his butt down next to Alvaro. “Hey,” he grinned.

“Hey, you,” Alvaro smiled.

“Two goals, huh?” Paulo said. He was still grinning like a very adorable maniac.

“You didn’t do too shabby yourself,” Alvaro said. He reached over and put his hand on Paulo’s. Paulo had scored the last goal of the game.

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered, and he had this extremely _proud_ look on his face and Alvaro wanted to stuff him in a tiny box and put him in his pocket and carry him around everywhere he went.

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered back, because even though the locker room was a chaotic mess, Alvaro felt like if he spoke too loudly, he’d ruin this perfect moment he had with Paulo.

“I really want to kiss you,” Paulo mouthed.

Alvaro laughed. He jabbed a finger at his head with his free hand. “Inside here. I’m kissing you right now.”

Paulo started giggling, he started _giggling_ and he was blushing a shade of peach, and he said, “Yeah, me too.”

So they sat there, unable to wipe the smiles off their faces and mentally kissing the fuck out of each other – until Paul wandered over and sat down next to Alvaro.

“Fucking hell, you two are going to make everybody puke.”

“You’re just jealous,” Alvaro said. He turned to Paul, and then back to Paulo, whose eyes were tracing every inch of Alvaro’s movement, like he was still mentally doing God-knows-what to Alvaro. “He’s just jealous.”

Paulo took his hand out from under Alvaro’s and grasped it instead. “C’mon, Alvi, let’s go make out somewhere.”

“What the fuck,” Paul said, throwing his arms in the air in resignation. He stared at them in disbelief as they grabbed their shower stuff and marched out of the room, hand in hand.

“I thought we were going to make out somewhere,” Alvaro pointed out as Paulo turned into the shower facility.

“We can always do that at home,” Paulo said. “You know, and. And more stuff.”

“You little minx,” Alvaro whispered as they found showerheads side by side.

“Always been,” Paulo said. “Hey. You still got that magazine we found in that hotel?”

“What magazine?” Alvaro asked innocently.

“Alvaro, fuck off. You know which magazine.”

Alvaro burst into laughter, causing some water to go up his nose. He coughed it out as Paulo started laughing himself. “’Course I do. It’s still wrapped in your Instituto shirt.”

Paulo smiled knowingly to himself. Their showers went on quietly for a few minutes before the rest of their rowdy teammates flooded the room and took the showers around them like they weren’t even bothered. It calmed Alvaro that they weren’t bothered. Not everyone could deal with having gay teammates, but. But this group of guys _could_.

“This is good, yeah?” Paulo said softly. When Alvaro turned to him curiously, he continued, “Today’s match. The both of us scoring. It’s just, the timing is great, yeah? It came right after Allegri’s talk. It’s like. Like, I don’t know.”

“Like we’ve immediately proven ourselves to him?” Alvaro finished.

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. He reached over and, despite the fact that they were in the middle of a fucking shower, took Alvaro’s hand. And held on to it like they were going on an excursion or whatever. “We’re going to be okay, yeah? Today is a sign that…that we’re always going to be okay.”

“We’re always going to be okay,” Alvaro repeated. He believed it, too; the very first time Alvaro really completely believed in that sentence. All the other times he’d said it, he had to convince himself that it was what he thought. He had to tell himself to think that way because he didn’t want Paulo to worry, because he wanted to protect Paulo. But now. Now he didn’t need to.

“So we’re holding hands in the shower now? That the new thing?” Paul remarked as he walked past them to find his own showerhead.

Paulo raised the middle finger of his free hand as Paul started to laugh. He didn’t let go of Alvaro’s hand, and Alvaro just. He couldn’t stop smiling. And staring at Paulo. Not because they were both _naked,_ but. But because Paulo was so fucking _beautiful_ with his dumb smile and bright eyes and the water running off his nose and his wet hair plastered all over his forehead. His chubby little cheeks and bumpy chin. His soft hands and fingers, a contrasting end to his muscular arms. His rib tattoo and the one around his forearm. His – well, Alvaro didn’t want to move further south or unspeakable things would happen.

“You doing something to me with your mind again?” Paulo asked lowly.

“Maybe,” Alvaro said quickly, a blush creeping up his neck at being caught so red-handed like that.

“Hey,” Paulo gave Alvaro’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. “We were great today, yeah? We’re going to be great.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He turned off the shower, wiped himself dry, and waited for Paulo to finish so they could go back together. He watched Paulo’s every little move. He found himself in awe again when he compared this Paulo to the one he’d met so many years ago. Paulo had grown. Paulo had grown _so much_ but still, everything between them hadn’t changed at all.

Alvaro remembered Isco telling him that he and Paulo were going to light up the world. He wanted to call Isco right then and tell Isco he had been wrong.

Because Paulo was already lighting up the world, and Alvaro was only going to be, and would _always gladly be_ , the holder of his torch.

\------

Allegri wanted to see them again before their trip to Chievo, so Paulo and Alvaro finally decided to sit down and read the document he had given them.

They ended up curled up together in bed, eyes frantically scanning the piece of paper at roughly the same speed, soft little murmurs escaping their lips whenever they encountered something weird or just. Just ridiculous.

Honestly, the list contained mostly tiny little details that didn’t even cross Paulo and Alvaro’s minds, things that they didn’t expect to be bothered by. Behaving appropriately in front of their coaches, trainers, physiotherapists, and whoever. No favouritism when it came to choosing training partners. No arguing against Allegri’s instructions if they were separated during training. Simple things like that, no intrusion of their rights or disruption to them in general.

But it also contained other things – things that struck more closely to their hearts. Things that they knew would affect them big time. Or mainly just two really big points.

Alvaro became completely silent after they were done reading the entire set of rules.

Paulo rested his cheek on Alvaro’s chest, body half draped over Alvaro’s, the document face down on the bedside table. Paulo heard Alvaro’s heartbeat speed up, his chest moving quicker with each breath. He moved his hand to Alvaro’s neck, gently running his fingers over the vein that started to throb whenever Alvaro was frustrated. He felt Alvaro press his face into his hair, taking a long, deep breath.

“So,” Paulo said softly. “We’re…they’re…they’re okay, yeah?”

Alvaro sighed. He picked up the document and held it above Paulo, flipping to the page of rules.

“You will be placed in separate rooms on alternate away games and away games against the other top five teams in the table,” he read. “That’s practically _all away games_.”

“You don’t want that?”

“Do you?”

“No,” Paulo whispered. It was the truth. He didn’t want to be separated from Alvaro, and it wasn’t even because of the jerking off thing. It was just. Just _because_. Alvaro’s presence _soothed Paulo_.

“There will be no sexual encounters within the premises of Vinovo and the Juventus Stadium.”

“We can live with that,” Paulo pointed out.

“There will be no sexual encounters less than eighteen hours before any match.”

“We’ll skip dinner,” Paulo said, and felt Alvaro smile as he nudged Paulo’s head upwards and kissed Paulo’s forehead.

“There will be no public displays of affection in the presence of your teammates?”

“Oops, already broke that one.”

“Any decision with regards to the publicity of your relationship must be discussed with your agents, coach, and the board.”

Paulo tilted his head so his lips were resting on Alvaro’s collarbones. His lips moved softly against them as he asked, “Are we going public?”

Alvaro sighed again. “Paulo,” he whispered. He moved Paulo so Paulo was lying on Alvaro’s arm instead, face to face with Alvaro. His gentle fingers ran over the shaved part of Paulo’s hair above his ear. “Paulo, my family doesn’t know.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, but had no idea how to continue, so he stopped. Alvaro’s eyes were restless and anxious, desperately wandering Paulo’s face, and Paulo just. He just wanted to make this entire thing better for Alvaro. He mustered a little smile for Alvaro, and Alvaro’s stare faltered into a half-affectionate, half-sad gaze.

“I’m scared,” he mouthed.

Paulo grabbed the shoulder of Alvaro’s t-shirt and clambered up onto Alvaro’s chest again, letting their warmth travel and mix and mingle. He let Alvaro wrap him up tightly in his arms, face pressed into Paulo’s hair again. He placed his palm gently on Alvaro’s heart and felt it beat steadily.

“I love you,” he said, voice muffled against Alvaro’s shirt.

“Love you, too,” Alvaro whispered. “Paulo. Were you this scared? When you told your mom.”

Paulo nodded.

“Your mom’s real nice,” Alvaro said.

“So is yours.”

“It’s my dad,” Alvaro said after a short hesitation. “He wouldn’t – I don’t – I don’t think he would. Yeah.”

Everything went silent again as they both thought about it. Paulo had always liked Alvaro’s dad. He reminded Paulo of his own dad.

Which was exactly why Paulo also thought that they would have trouble coming out to Alvaro’s dad.

Paulo was lucky in a way that he never had to experience the full wrath of his father, had he been alive to see Paulo struggle with his sexuality. He missed his father every single day, and he desperately wished that up until that point in his life, he had made his father proud, he had fulfilled his father’s dream. But he also knew that for his dad to accept who Paulo was – it was an entirely different, more difficult story. A story with an ending that Paulo would never get to know, but had to accept anyway.

“He wants the best for you,” Paulo said softly. “And maybe. Maybe he’ll think that it isn’t me.”

“But it is, Paulo, and he won’t know, he won’t _understand_ , but I do. I _do_ , and I know you’re right for me and you’re the best for me, fuck, I have never felt so right, so _in place_ , ever in my life, and. And what if he makes me break up with you? Makes me move back to Madrid, terminate my contract with Juve because he knows, _we all know_ , that Real Madrid would want to get me back? I don’t even know how this would work, but. But my dad. He knows these things. He can make these things happen.”

“Would you want to?” Paulo asked before he realised how much he _did not want to hear the answer_.

“No,” Alvaro said, almost immediately. “I’m…I’m an adult now. I’m twenty-three. I can make my own decisions.”

Paulo’s heart gave a relieved little skip. “Alvaro. We don’t have to go public.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked, still breathless from his little rant. “Paulo, I don’t. I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you or anything. Because I’m not.”

Paulo hoisted himself up with his forearms on Alvaro’s chest. He slowly ran his fingers in circles over Alvaro’s stubble, watching Alvaro’s worried eyes slowly descend from their delirium. He gently pressed his lips on Alvaro’s, grateful when they responded eagerly. “I know, yeah. I know,” he whispered against them.

“It’s just,” Alvaro pulled away from the kiss to continue. “It’s big, this thing, it’s gonna be really big if it gets out, and. And I _want you to be safe_ , Paulo, I always have, and. And I don’t know what’s going to happen and I _hate_ that I don’t know, because I want you to have the best and I can’t do that without knowing what’s going to come at us once the fans know, and –“

“Alvaro, shut up,” Paulo whispered. He kissed Alvaro again, softly saying in between kisses, “I love you. I don’t care. Alvaro, I don’t care. We don’t have to think about that now. We’ll just take it slow, yeah? We’ll take it slow and everyone will know when they have to know.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked, voice desperate again. “Pau, I just, I want to tell the whole world about you, I really fucking want to, I just. I _would_ , if the world wasn’t such a horrible, horrible place.”

“It’s okay,” Paulo said. “It really is, Alvi, please just. Don’t be like this. I don’t want to make you miserable, I hate knowing that you’re so miserable because of me.”

“I’m not, Paulo, you make me so fucking happy and I don’t know what I did to deserve you, to even deserve _meeting you_ , I just. This whole thing is so new to me and I want to protect you and I have no idea how, Paulo.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Paulo promised. “I swear, we will. Alvi, we’ll figure it out. Please don’t…don’t break down on me. I love you so much and I don’t want you to be like this because of me because then…then maybe we shouldn’t be toget–“

“No,” Alvaro interrupted. He wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo, and Paulo. Paulo couldn’t breathe again, like his heart was a sponge and someone was squeezing every drop of blood out of it and that someone was Alvaro. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that. Paulo, I’m trying. I really, really am trying.”

“I know,” Paulo whispered. He was always, always unfailingly proud and touched and _brave_ whenever he was reminded that Alvaro was trying. Alvaro was trying _for Paulo_. And Alvaro struggling with all these conflicting feelings – it wasn’t something new to Paulo. Paulo had fought before, too, against his own emotions. And that was why he knew, he was so fucking _sure_ , that they were going to figure this out together. “And I’m so, so happy that you are.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro moved to kiss Paulo again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Alvi, baby, please don’t feel so burdened by me.”

“I’m not, I just. I would punch the _fuck_ out of anyone who dares to say _anything_ about you, about us.”

“Yeah?” Paulo laughed. “Alvi, you haven’t changed one bit.”

“I haven’t?”

“Maybe you’ve grown taller a bit, but nope. Nothing else.”

“I’m still a child, that’s what you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Paulo grinned. His chest loosened when Alvaro smiled back, fingers reaching to tickle Paulo’s sides. He rolled off Alvaro in a bid to shield himself, but failed.

“Pity, ‘cause I think you’ve matured a lot,” Alvaro said, hands still wandering.

“It’s your turn now,” Paulo said. “And it’s my turn to watch you do it.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled proudly. He stopped trying to tickle Paulo and instead wrapped Paulo up in a big hug. “I hope you have as great a time as I had watching you.”

“You’re going to do great,” Paulo whispered.

“And it’ll all be because of you. It’ll all be for you.”

They fell asleep that night all curled up together like two warm hamster balls, troubles temporarily forgotten.


	36. Heaven Is A Place On Earth With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Video Games by Lana Del Rey.

Paulo and Alvaro ended up telling Allegri they agreed to abide by all the rules except the separate rooming in away matches, quoting but not specifying a ‘routine’ that they were used to and didn’t want to abandon. They told him that they wanted their relationship to be kept within Juve and for it to not go public. Allegri was sceptical about how compliant they were about the rules, but. But Paulo reminded him that football was always going to be first for them, and they were trying to prove it, and Allegri was satisfied.

And that was it. That was all, no more prying questions asked.

Juve finally climbed up to first place in the table in the middle of February – something to be celebrated, evidently, after the disastrous start they’d had. The disastrous start that had Paulo thinking if he really belonged at such a huge club like Juve.

The evening match against Napoli that had brought them to the top, along with all the excitement that had come after it, meant that Paulo and Alvaro spent the morning of Valentines’ Day sleeping in.

Alvaro woke up to soft sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains, all curled up against Paulo, head resting on Paulo’s chest, right where his heart was. Paulo’s hand was softly caressing the side of Alvaro’s head, fingers playing with the short stubble of hair that was growing above his ear, like he really wanted to touch Alvaro but was afraid of waking him up. Alvaro tilted his head upwards to see Paulo gazing down at him, his own head propped up on an extra pillow. He had like, three chins, which made Alvaro smile.

“Hello,” Paulo whispered.

“Hi,” Alvaro said sleepily, pushing his face back into the warmth of Paulo’s t-shirt. Paulo smelled like. Like fresh wintry air.

Paulo smelled like winter, kissed like autumn, loved like summer, and laughed like spring.

“Happy v-day,” Paulo said softly, fingers now softly tracing the back of Alvaro’s neck.

Alvaro smiled. He wrapped his arm around Paulo’s waist like he was a giant bolster. “You, too.”

“What should we do today?”

“Nothing,” Alvaro said. He gave Paulo’s tummy a kiss through his t-shirt before he turned, still lying on his side on Paulo’s chest but facing Paulo instead. “Just. Nothing.”

Paulo smiled. His palm ran its way across Alvaro’s forehead. Alvaro loved the feeling of Paulo’s hands on him. On any part of him. “Okay,” Paulo mouthed.

Alvaro reached over and placed his hand on Paulo’s shoulder, slowly sliding it up the side of Paulo’s neck. He ran his thumb over Paulo’s jaw and down his Adam’s apple, feeling it vibrate a little as Paulo gave a low chuckle. Paulo curled the fingers of his free hand around Alvaro’s wrist, his gaze busying itself around Alvaro’s face, a mixture of affection and peacefulness in them. Alvaro turned his hand to hold Paulo’s instead, gently slipping their fingers together, like the gaps between them were made to fit each other’s.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, after about fifteen minutes of complete silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

Alvaro swallowed. It was a question that had been on his mind _forever_ , but. But Alvaro had never figured out how to ask it, which was why he never had. It wasn’t like they’d never talked about Paulo’s sex life, but. Not in this much detail. Paulo’s fingers traced Alvaro’s hairline nervously as he waited.

“What is it?” Paulo asked when Alvaro didn’t continue. “Alvi. You know we can talk about anything.”

“I just,” Alvaro sighed. “I just, um. Have you…have you ever, uh. Fucked someone? A guy?”

Paulo’s hands froze. His body froze, too. His eyes widened as they darted around, half-shocked and half-anxious. He lifted his hand off Alvaro’s head, letting it hover for a few moments, before placing it back down. And then lifting it again.

“You don’t have to answer –“

“No,” Paulo interrupted, and then started blushing furiously. “I mean, no, I’ll answer you. Not no, I’ve never fucked anyone. Because, uh. Because I have.”

“You…” Alvaro tried to shrug, but only succeeded in jabbing Paulo with his shoulder. “You like it?”

Paulo shrugged.

“Do you think we could, um,” Alvaro’s gaze wandered to Paulo’s neck, his shoulders, the headboard behind Paulo – anywhere so he didn’t have to look at Paulo because for some reason, he was super embarrassed. “That I could. You could. That I could, um…try?”

Paulo let go of Alvaro’s hand and pushed Alvaro’s chin until Alvaro was looking at him again. “You want to try getting fucked in the ass?”

And well, it didn’t sound very appetising when Paulo put it that way, but. “Um. Yeah.”

“Okay,” Paulo said.

“Okay?” Alvaro repeated. “You mean. You mean we’ll do it?”

Paulo smiled encouragingly at Alvaro. “I don’t think we’ll get it done by today, but yeah. I guess we can do it, get you started, if you want.”

“What do you mean by ‘get it done’?” Alvaro asked. He was suddenly, well. He was suddenly really nervous.

“I mean, we won’t get my dick inside you by today.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhh,” Alvaro dragged the word on forever. “So…so how are we going to do it?”

Paulo lifted Alvaro and gently slid out from under him. He gave Alvaro – a very puzzled Alvaro – a kiss on the head before he left the room.

By the time he reappeared with a box in his hands, Alvaro was sitting up anxiously in bed, peering at the doorway, hands clasped in his lap. He watched intently as Paulo sat down on the bed next to him and put the box down.

“I guess we got lucky that we stayed at my place, huh?” Paulo smiled.

And then he opened the box and showed Alvaro what was inside, and. And there were dildos of like, five different sizes and various different textures, and bottle after bottle of lube, and some funky looking straps and rings, and – and was that a butt plug? Anyway, Alvaro had never seen _any_ of those things, except maybe the lube. He watched Paulo as he dug around the box, briefly showing Alvaro everything.

“These…uh, these are yours?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo nodded, avoiding eye contact. He checked the expiry dates on the lube and picked the newest bottle. He pointed at a dildo and asked, “Do you think you can take one of these? Or, um, you want a plug?”

“What did you use your first time?”

Paulo pointed towards the dildos, so. Since it was possible, Alvaro pointed at the dildos, too. There were some smaller ones in the box which Paulo dug out. He lifted two of the smallest dildos, both narrow and about four inches long, and Alvaro couldn’t tell the difference until Paulo asked, “You want it to vibrate, or?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said timidly.

Paulo smiled. “I guess we could use the vibrating one, yeah, just in case?” he asked, glancing over at Alvaro. He put the box down on the floor, leaving the lube on the table and standing up. “Wait, I’ll go sterilise this.”

And Alvaro was just. Just suddenly hit by the fact that Paulo knew all of this so well. Hit by the realisation that there had been this entire part of Paulo’s life, this other foreign, almost dark part which Alvaro knew nothing about. This entire part that Paulo had to figure out on his own, and now he was willing to stick around and help Alvaro do the same.

Alvaro wandered outside and found Paulo in the kitchen, digging under the sink for some bleach. He diluted it in a bucket of water and dumped the dildo in it, watching it sink to the bottom.

“Silicon ones can be sterilised,” Paulo said when Alvaro appeared next to him, before Alvaro could even say a word. “So we can, uh. Share.”

“How long have you been collecting, um,” Alvaro waved his hand towards the bedroom. “These?”

“Since I started…experimenting.”

“So…2011?”

Paulo nodded. “While we were having that. That fight. And we didn’t talk for a few months. But I dumped most of the old ones. These two smallest ones, they’re the first two I got. I didn’t, you know. Use them for a long while. Until I came to Turin, and I didn’t have anyone, and…and when I needed to. Yeah.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Alvaro watched as Paulo rinsed the dildo off, replaced the bleach solution with hot water, and dumped it in again. Without actually looking at Alvaro, he took Alvaro’s hand and gently slid their fingers together. “Let’s go brush our teeth, yeah?”

“You hungry?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shook his head. “You?”

“No,” Alvaro said.

They brushed their teeth in silence over the double sink, avoiding any kind of eye contact whatsoever. Though Alvaro did catch Paulo’s eyes darting across the mirror, trying to read Alvaro’s expression without Alvaro noticing. Alvaro didn’t actually know how to behave. How was someone supposed to behave after asking their boyfriend to fuck them in the butt? For the _first time_?

“You want me to, um,” Alvaro cleared his throat. “Wash up?”

“Yeah, okay,” Paulo said. He disappeared outside and then reappeared with the dildo in a clean towel, placing it next to the lube on the table. Alvaro took his time to take off his clothes, and stepped into the shower as Paulo, for some reason, came back and sat down on the toilet to watch him.

“You gonna –“ Alvaro started, overlapping with Paulo’s “I’ll wait for you.”

So Alvaro stepped into the shower and closed the shower curtain. He turned on the shower and waited for it to become warm. He could still see Paulo’s silhouette fidgeting around on the toilet. And then standing up. And walking towards Alvaro. And then Paulo’s head popped around the curtain.

“Could I maybe, um, join you?” he asked.

Alvaro nodded, and Paulo quickly took off all his clothes and dumped them on the floor before stepping in. He stepped right under the only half-warm water, and grabbed Alvaro’s waist and dragged him in, too.

“Thought maybe we could start now,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Alvaro said. He was suddenly really nervous again. “Yeah. Um. Paulo. Is this weird?”

“Is what weird?”

“Me asking you to…yeah.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Really?”

“Alvaro. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to.”

“But you want to, yeah?”

“Yeah, but do _you_?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Really, Alvi,” Paulo said, running his hands in big circles over Alvaro’s abdomen. He tiptoed a little and planted his lips on Alvaro’s. “Alvi. Alvi, I just need you to relax. You just have to relax, okay?”

“Will it hurt?” Alvaro whispered.

“A little,” Paulo said. He stepped away from Alvaro, out of the stream of water. “Alvaro, this is why, okay? This is why it’s…it seems that it’s weird. It’s not that I don’t want to do it. It’s just. I don’t want to hurt you. Okay? I’ve never done it with someone…someone who’s never done it before. So I just. I don’t want to hurt you.”

And Alvaro just. Everything suddenly fell into place. Paulo was just as afraid as Alvaro; he was just as afraid as Alvaro had been the first time he’d had sex with Paulo, and he was just as afraid as Alvaro was right then. Paulo wasn’t hesitant to do it because he didn’t want to. He was hesitant to do it because he didn’t know if he would hurt Alvaro.

“Did it hurt the first time you did it?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah.”

“But you continued?”

Paulo shrugged. “I wanted to try it, and if I hadn’t, how would I have ever known that I liked it?”

And then Paulo just. His head snapped up to meet Alvaro’s gaze, like a different realisation had hit him, too. If Alvaro didn’t try, how would he ever know if he liked it? Alvaro raised his eyebrows, and Paulo smiled. Paulo smiled, finally, and it made Alvaro all warm and fuzzy.

“You really, really want this, yeah?” Paulo asked, stepping close to Alvaro again. “And you’ll tell me to stop, if. If it’s too much, yeah?”

“I promise,” Alvaro whispered. He grasped Paulo’s chin and kissed Paulo on the lips. “Paulo. I trust you. I trust you with my entire life.”

“Okay,” Paulo murmured in between kisses. His hands travelled down south, lingering briefly at Alvaro’s waist before they eventually landed on Alvaro’s butt. “Okay.”

Paulo got some soap in one hand and lathered it into a foam on Alvaro’s abdomen, his other hand still gently but firmly clutching one of Alvaro’s butt cheeks. He slowly spread the bubbles all around, further down to Alvaro’s hips, giving Alvaro’s dick a few soft strokes, and then – and then moving behind to Alvaro’s butt, in between his butt cheeks.

Alvaro cringed violently when Paulo’s finger ran over his hole. It wasn’t that it hurt or anything, it was just. Just a very foreign feeling. He collapsed against Paulo, wrapping his arms around Paulo’s head as Paulo propped his chin on Alvaro’s shoulder so he could see behind Alvaro.

“Relax, okay?” Paulo whispered. “Just relax. It hurts less if you relax.”

And Alvaro was trying, really, he was trying so hard to relax. He nodded against the side of Paulo’s head as Paulo gently thrust his hips against Alvaro’s, dicks brushing slightly against each other. Paulo guided Alvaro under the stream of water again, letting it wash all the soap suds off them both. He ran his finger over Alvaro’s hole again, over and over again, the soap helping him to do it gently. He let Alvaro thrust his hips against him to the same rhythm, until the feeling became less foreign to Alvaro.

“C’mon,” Paulo said when they were clean. He led Alvaro out of the shower and started to dry him with a towel before hastily wiping himself off. Alvaro found his lips crashing against Paulo’s again as Paulo stood up, grabbing the back of Alvaro’s neck and slowly working his tongue into Alvaro’s mouth as he guided Alvaro to the bed and gently set him down. He climbed over Alvaro and kissed Alvaro again, first on his cheeks then on his lips. “You promise you’ll stop me, yeah?”

“Promise,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo traced a line of kisses down Alvaro’s neck, his clavicles, his sternum, and his abdomen, until he reached Alvaro’s dick. His fingers continued running over Alvaro’s hole, now daring to gently nudge it open, to ease Alvaro into things. His other hand curled around Alvaro’s dick, softly giving it a few strokes before Paulo lowered his lips over it.

And Alvaro already had a semi, so. So the feeling of Paulo’s lips on him was incredibly liberating. He thrusted his hips upwards, pushing himself all the way into Paulo’s mouth, only stopped by Paulo when he firmly placed a hand on Alvaro’s hip and pushed it back down. Paulo swirled his tongue around as he slid Alvaro’s dick out of his mouth, smiling at Alvaro as he reached over to grab a pillow and a towel.

“Someone’s really eager, huh?” Paulo smiled. He placed the pillow and towel under Alvaro’s back.

“I _want you_ ,” Alvaro said, and he sounded fucking _desperate_ and thirsty as _fuck_ but. But he didn’t care.

“Okay, baby,” Paulo whispered. He lifted Alvaro’s thighs in the air and held them apart. “It’s gonna be, uh. A little uncomfortable. And acrobatic. So…so yeah, just. Just tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay,” Alvaro whispered back. He braced himself as Paulo ducked his head between Alvaro’s thighs and.

And completely _lost it_ when he felt Paulo’s tongue land on his entrance, softly swirling his own spit around. It still didn’t hurt, though Alvaro was constantly anticipating the pain to come. It just. It felt weird. He reached around his thighs and grabbed a handful of Paulo’s hair. He didn’t tug, or Paulo would’ve stopped and Alvaro _didn’t want Paulo to stop_. Paulo traced his tongue around the rim of Alvaro’s hole a few times, thoroughly wetting it, before slowly pushing the tip of his tongue inside.

And _fuck_ , okay, it hurt a little having his hole squeezed open like that. Alvaro grasped Paulo’s hair more tightly, tugging on it gently, and Paulo stopped, his head popping back up.

“Yeah?” he panted. “Hurts?”

“A little,” Alvaro breathed. “Just. Just weird.”

“Okay,” Paulo said. He grabbed one of Alvaro’s thighs and flipped him on his front in one swift move, and fucking hell, Paulo was _strong_ and it fucking turned Alvaro on. He gently eased Alvaro’s butt cheeks apart and ran his finger across Alvaro’s hole again, causing Alvaro to buckle against the bed. “I’ll use the lube. And my finger.”

Alvaro shut his eyes, but opened them again when he heard the sound of the lube bottle being squeezed. He turned his head to see a ridiculously huge heap of lube being squeezed out on Paulo’s palm. “Do we need that much?” he croaked.

“Yeah,” Paulo said, distracted. “It’ll be cold,” he said, a brief warning before he smeared most of the lube over Alvaro’s hole, some of it dripping inside. Alvaro flinched. He could feel the slimy, _cold_ liquid _inside of him_. It felt strangely deep inside. “Get on your knees, baby.”

Alvaro did so obediently. He wrapped his arms around a pillow he could squeeze as he crouched on all fours for Paulo to continue pulling his butt cheeks apart. He felt Paulo run his lubed fingers over his hole again, this time pushing the tip of his finger inside.

And _okay_ , this time it hurt, too. It hurt less, but it still hurt, and Alvaro hugged the pillow tightly, pushing his face into it. He felt Paulo tease the ring of muscle at the entrance, slowly and gently wiggling his finger around.

“You okay?” Paulo asked, his face suddenly close and warm against Alvaro’s. One of his thighs was between Alvaro’s, and he was crouching half over Alvaro, hovering over him, his hands busy pleasuring Alvaro’s back and front and his dick half-hard against Alvaro’s side. “This my pinky.”

His _pinky_. And Alvaro was already grabbing on to the pillow for dear life. He felt himself relax, though, when Paulo’s free hand moved to tilt Alvaro’s face and Paulo’s lips landed on his, and. And Paulo was right. It was easier if he chilled instead of being so fucking _scared_.

“Yeah,” Alvaro replied.

Paulo’s hand moved back underneath to Alvaro’s dick, gently cupping it and stroking it, and it felt cool against the sensitized skin because of all the lube. Alvaro closed his eyes, pressed his cheek against the pillow, and gently rocked against Paulo’s hands. It felt. It felt kind of comfortable, the rhythm.

“Can I go deeper?” Paulo whispered, like he was afraid to disturb Alvaro’s zen mode.

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro mumbled. “It’s good. I’m good.”

Paulo pushed his finger slightly deeper, and Alvaro felt the now familiar tingling pain of both the muscles being pulled open and the friction against them – the latter of which was quickly resolved by the lube already inside and on Paulo’s finger.

“How does it feel?” Paulo asked, and _God_ , Alvaro was so fucking appreciative that Paulo didn’t just shut the fuck up and let him ride the pain out. Paulo cared. Paulo didn’t give a fuck about whether he was being annoying because he wanted Alvaro to enjoy it. He didn’t want Alvaro to be hurt. And fuck, Alvaro loved the fuck out of him.

“It’s okay,” Alvaro said. Paulo was still stroking his dick and now Alvaro had a hard-on and it was so much easier to be relaxed.

“My finger’s all the way in.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro’s eyes shot open. He felt like. Like he had levelled up on this entire anal thing. Plus, he knew Paulo didn’t have the skinniest fingers because they were cute and stubby, and well. This must’ve been some fucking work for Alvaro’s butt muscles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled, and leaned over again to kiss Alvaro on the temple. “Switch fingers?”

Alvaro nodded, so Paulo squeezed more lube on his hands, on his middle finger, and gently nudged it into Alvaro’s hole, coupling it with his other thumb running over Alvaro’s slit.

“Fuck, fuck,” Alvaro’s body gave a little spasm as Paulo tried to shush him. He buried his face into the pillow, whispering, more to himself than to Paulo, “Okay, okay, okay.”

Paulo slowly edged his finger in, moving it slightly side to side to open Alvaro further. His other hand jerked Alvaro off harder, stronger, and. And all the sensations pooling on Alvaro’s pelvic area, it was almost overwhelming.

“You okay, yeah?” Paulo whispered, leaning over Alvaro to kiss him again. “You’re doing good, Alvi. You’re doing good.”

“How far am I?”

“Almost there, baby.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro gasped as Paulo tugged on his dick. “Paulo. Paulo.”

“Still feel tight?” Paulo asked.

“No, not really,” Alvaro whispered. He began to rock his hips again, sliding his lube-covered dick in and out of Paulo’s lube-covered hand – fuck, _everything_ was covered in lube – and letting Paulo slowly nudge his finger deeper inside. “Fuck, Paulo, this feels so good.”

“Think you can take two fingers?”

And Alvaro desperately wanted to grab on to Paulo’s hand, to any part of Paulo, but their positions meant he couldn’t, and Paulo’s hands were full, and Alvaro just. Just clung on to the pillow for dear life and squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah.”

He heard the squirt of the lube bottle again, and then Paulo’s hand returned to Alvaro’s cock while the other positioned itself at Alvaro’s entrance. “You good?” Paulo murmured, softly kissing Alvaro’s shoulder blade.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Alvaro whispered. He felt Paulo’s lips turn into a smile. It was a proud smile, Alvaro sensed.

Paulo slowly nudged Alvaro’s hole open again, this time with two fingers. He coupled it with a few almost-violent strokes on Alvaro’s dick, and Alvaro briefly wondered if it was to distract him from the pain or if it was because Paulo knew it would send fucking jolts of electricity up and down his spine from all his nerve endings bursting into life. He decided it was both.

“You’re so great, baby,” Paulo mumbled, body draped over Alvaro’s, dick casually rubbing up against Alvaro’s hip. His fingers slowly inched deeper into Alvaro. “You’ll be ready really soon.”

Alvaro nudged his butt backwards, forcing Paulo deeper. He heard Paulo gave a little surprised gasp followed by a soft giggle, and he felt Paulo start up the rhythm again, the jerking off and finger-sliding. Alvaro closed his eyes and let himself feel every tiny bit of it. Every up and down of Paulo’s hand on Alvaro’s dick. Every in and out of his fingers up Alvaro’s butt. The perfect, seamless coupling of the two, a rhythm that Paulo so flawlessly managed to give Alvaro, even though he had confessed earlier he hadn’t before helped anyone lose their anal virginity. Paulo was. He was so kind and gentle, and his hands were so soft and caring, and. And he could never have done anything wrong to Alvaro.

“Still hurts?” Paulo suddenly asked, knocking Alvaro out of his trance. Alvaro shook his head. Paulo continued, “I’m all the way in.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro rocked his hips back. It felt. It felt unexpectedly and indescribably _uncomfortable but_ _good_ at the same time, and Alvaro couldn’t figure it out, just knew that he liked it. “A little while more.”

“Okay.”

Paulo continued like that for a while, draping himself over Alvaro and softly running his cheek on Alvaro’s back. He occasionally planted loud smoochy kisses on Alvaro’s back and Alvaro just. Alvaro was so fond. He was so fond of his Paulo and for a few moments, he completely forgot about how his asshole was getting fucking _sore_ and instead focused completely on every slightest movement of Paulo’s hands. Alvaro was sure that not everybody enjoyed their first time but. But Alvaro was so fucking _lucky_ to get to do it with his best friend, his Paulo, his gentle, loving Paulo.

“I think…I think it’s okay now,” Alvaro finally said.

“Yeah? Yeah?” Paulo murmured against the middle of Alvaro’s back. “You sure?”

Alvaro nodded. Paulo got up, scooped up another towel, and wiped his hands clean. He picked up the dildo from the table and fished around inside the bedside drawer for a condom that wasn’t fucking XL-sized, and he took ages to find it and. And Alvaro just suddenly felt really empty down _there_ , without Paulo’s fingers in him. Without Paulo all pressed up against him.

“Come back,” he whined.

“Coming,” Paulo said, before giggling at his unintentional innuendo. He rolled the condom down on the dildo and brought it back to where Alvaro was. “Alvi, it’s. It’s a bit big, is that okay?”

“I’ll try,” Alvaro whispered. He grasped a handful of the sheets.

“If it hurts too much, you have to tell me, okay?”

“Can I, um,” Alvaro started, and then paused, embarrassed – before realising that this was Paulo and he had literally nothing to be embarrassed about. “Can I hold your hand?”

“Yeah,” Paulo chuckled. He generously lathered the dildo with a heap of lube and wiped his hand off again, but it was still a little oily when he slid his fingers in between Alvaro’s. Paulo positioned the toy between Alvaro’s butt cheeks and gently slid its length along. His hand tightened slightly around Alvaro’s as he felt Alvaro clench up nervously, and tightened even further when he nudged the tip against Alvaro’s opening and Alvaro gave a loud gasp. “This okay?”

The girth felt slightly larger than the width of Paulo’s fingers, and Alvaro could feel his muscles straining to take it. He took a few really deep breaths. He moved his free hand to cup his own dick.

“Yeah, okay, just, just real slow,” he finally said.

“Real slow,” Paulo repeated in a whisper, his breath hot against the small of Alvaro’s back. He gently nudged the dildo slightly deeper, and Alvaro gave an unintentionally loud groan.

“Fuck, fuck,” Alvaro muttered into the pillow, but desperately tugged at Paulo’s hand when he stopped. “No, no, Paulo. Don’t stop. It’s just. Just that it feels a little weird.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, I. Just a little bit.”

“Not too much?”

“No. I promise.”

Paulo slowly edged the toy inwards, barely pausing; which was just as well, because if he had then Alvaro would have had the time to be distracted by the pain. The friction it produced was barely noticeable after the mountainous heap of lube Paulo had used, but the feeling of the dildo inside Alvaro was definitely something new. It kind of. Kind of felt like pooping, but in the other direction. It felt strangely disgusting and pleasurable at the same fucking time, and Alvaro knew he was supposed to be confused, but. But he picked the good parts, and they were so damn fucking good.

He continued muttering obscenities into the pillow, though, because he just needed a way to release all his emotions towards this, even though he wasn’t so sure what they were. Paulo held on tightly to his hand with every single mumble of ‘fuck,’ every soft moan, and every choking gasp. He held on like his life depended on it as much as Alvaro’s life seemed to depend on it right then. Alvaro felt like he was on fire. He felt like his entire lower body had suddenly been lit up in flames.

“Why’re you stopping?” he slurred, suddenly feeling really high and drowsy at the same time, when Paulo stopped nudging the dildo inwards.

“It’s all the way in,” Paulo said.

And fuck, Alvaro hadn’t even realised. There was like, four inches of a foreign phallic object up Alvaro’s ass. Something Alvaro never imagined would ever cross his mind. But now that he thought of it, it felt huge. It felt like someone was pulling at a muscle that was never meant to be pulled. Like stuffing a too-large piece of food down his throat.

“Fuck,” was his eventual reply.

“Alvi,” Paulo’s lips moved against Alvaro’s shoulder blade. “Alvi, you’re going to have to let go of my hand, I’m going to turn you on your back, okay?”

“Nooo,” Alvaro whined.

“Alvaro, I want to see your face.”

“In the kinky way, or,” Alvaro sighed against the pillow. “Or?”

“I’m going to, um, thrust,” Paulo said. “Thrust the thing. And I need to see your face so I know I’m not hurting you, okay? Okay, Alvi?”

“’Kay,” Alvaro whispered. He let go of Paulo’s hand.

Paulo grabbed one of Alvaro’s ankles and flipped Alvaro over again. He adjusted the pillow under Alvaro’s back and the towel under his butt before grabbing the base of the dildo again. “Okay, Alvi, baby, you ready?”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro mumbled.

Paulo gently slid the dildo out of Alvaro’s hole again, causing Alvaro to wince. He reached the head before he pushed it back in, and Alvaro just. He started moaning really loudly, and he would have ordinarily been really embarrassed but in that moment he just. He just didn’t care. He reached out blindly for Paulo’s hand, allowing Paulo only to wipe it quickly before Alvaro grabbed it eagerly, clutching it against his chest. Alvaro was. He was already stretched wider than he ever thought possible, and the dildo looked way smaller than Paulo’s full hard-on, and – and Alvaro wondered if he would ever get there. He wondered how Paulo felt when Alvaro fucked him.

“Fuck, Paulo,” Alvaro hissed when Paulo repeated the motion. He thrust his hips upwards but met nothing to soothe his rock hard boner.

Paulo let go of the dildo for a moment to grab Alvaro’s right hand and guide it to his cock, making Alvaro jerk himself off. He leaned over, thighs straddling one of Alvaro’s, and kissed Alvaro on the lips, and it felt. It felt so liberating, the entire thing felt so complete with Paulo kissing him along with everything else he was currently doing. Alvaro lapped it all up eagerly, tongue greedily forcing its way into Paulo’s mouth. He let go of Paulo’s hand and ran his fingers down Paulo’s ribs, feeling Paulo inhale deeply at the touch. He let it all out in a harsh exhale against Alvaro’s lips, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered desperately. He just. He had no other words. “Paulo. Fuck. I just, yeah. Pau.”

Paulo began rubbing his cock against Alvaro’s thigh, matching the rhythm to which he was sliding the toy in and out. Alvaro began to stroke himself harder, trying to match the same speed, but. But he felt like he wasn’t in control of his hand at all, like he was floating up somewhere high, like he was lucid dreaming or whatever. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain making him so fucking crazy, or the pleasure. He wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening, maybe he was a sadomasochist, maybe he lived for this pain. Alvaro was just. Just briefly transported to an entirely new world.

“Want me to do it?” Paulo whispered, his hand landing on Alvaro’s dick, on top of Alvaro’s hand.

“Okay. Okay.”

“You close?”

“Really close,” Alvaro said. His precome was all mixed with the lube, but. But Alvaro was so fucking _sore._ Not because of the dildo up his butt but because he craved so much for Paulo’s touch. For Paulo to make him come, for Paulo to give him the release he needed.

Alvaro held on to Paulo’s shoulders as Paulo took over. He took over _completely_. His hands moved gracefully, up and down and in and out, in this rhythm that could only be described by the word _magical._ Alvaro’s fingers tightened around Paulo’s shoulders, around Paulo’s arms, until he could no longer feel his fingers, not even those of his left hand. He arched his hips off the pillow, the sensations on his front, on his back, places he never knew he could _feel things_ – all his senses heightening to the point where if Paulo just gave another little stroke, Alvaro would spill right over the edge.

And Paulo gave him that very stroke, a hard tug on his dick followed by a thumb over his slit, coupled with a final shove of the dildo right into Alvaro that literally sent sparks across Alvaro’s vision. Alvaro came, loudly and violently and ungracefully and almost painfully, all over himself. His hips stuttered wildly, pushing his dick into Paulo’s obliging hand a couple more times. He tried to open his eyes and caught a glimpse of Paulo just. Just on his knees, sitting on his heels, watching Alvaro with this completely _sick_ look on his face, a mixture of desperation, worry, nervousness, _exhaustion_ , affection, and a little bit of pride; warmth, tenderness, and this heart-melting look of complete adoration, all of it expressed in the gentlest, gentlest shade of green in Paulo’s eyes.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered in the only breath he could afford.

Paulo smiled. His hand didn’t stop moving on Alvaro’s dick until the last drop of come rolled off it. He leaned over and kissed Alvaro’s lips, his chin, and then his hands, one at a time.

“Alvi,” he murmured, cupping Alvaro’s cheek with one hand so he wouldn’t drift off to sleep. “Hey. I’m going to pull it out of you now, ‘kay? It’s, uh. It’s going to hurt.”

“Okay. Okay,” Alvaro breathed. His hands slowly moved around Paulo’s body, finding a place he could grasp. He felt the dildo being slowly pulled out, and _okay_ , this time it really felt like pooping, only it was a really big shit, and it fucking _hurt_ because Alvaro was no longer aroused nor relaxed and everything down there was extra sensitive. “Paulo. Paulo, fuck, it hurts, Pau.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paulo whispered, stopping immediately. He leaned over again, straining to reach Alvaro’s lips with his own. When he succeeded, he softly kissed all the little gasps out of Alvaro as he continued pulling the toy out, agonisingly slowly. “Alvi, I really need you to relax, okay? Just relax. It’s going to be okay, this is the last step, and I love you, Alvi, you are so brave and I love you so much, just relax and trust me, okay?”

Alvaro gave a little cry into Paulo’s mouth in response. He braced himself just long enough for the entire dildo to be out with a weird slimy sound, before he let it all out in a long, exhausted breath. “Fuck,” he mouthed against Paulo’s lips. He felt strangely loose and empty. His sphincter muscles were sore as they slowly attempted to close back up.

Paulo smiled and dumped the dildo on the towel it had been in before. He collapsed on Alvaro, although Alvaro was a sweaty, sticky, _oily_ mess. “How do you feel?” he asked.

And fuck, it was just like Paulo to have Alvaro’s feelings as his topmost priority. It was just like Paulo to still be concerned about Alvaro even though he had been constantly making sure Alvaro was okay throughout the _entire thing_. There was _no fucking way_ Alvaro could not be okay, after all of Paulo’s gentleness. Sure, it hurt, yeah, but Paulo had made sure it hurt the least it possibly could.

“Sore,” Alvaro finally said, after he managed to get out of the trance Paulo’s eyes had put him in.

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. He sat up and gave Alvaro a long, lingering look. “Hey, um, will you give me a minute?”

“What you gonna do?” Alvaro asked, too lazy to form a coherent sentence. He felt strangely possessive of Paulo. Paulo couldn’t wander an inch away from Alvaro or Alvaro would. He would _die_.

“Um, I need, uh,” Paulo pointed at his own boner. “I need to take care of this.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Alvaro said, bursting into a little fit of giggles. Paulo joined in, too, and it was the most beautiful sound in the universe. Alvaro patted his tummy. “Come here. I’ll help you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo grinned. He clambered up onto Alvaro’s abdomen and thrust his hips forward. “Okay. But don’t use your mouth ‘cause there’s lube all over.”

Alvaro cupped Paulo’s dick in his hand – _okay_ , it was definitely much bigger than the dildo – and gave it a few hard, slow strokes. He ran his thumb over Paulo’s slit and Paulo’s tired eyes popped open all the way, so he did it a few more times. He did it until Paulo was a gasping, sputtering mess, back arched upwards but body leaning over Alvaro, forearms resting on Alvaro’s shoulders. He pressed his forehead against Alvaro’s and Alvaro’s entire world was suddenly flooded with green, with his favourite shade of green.

“Come on, baby,” Alvaro whispered, craning his neck to kiss Paulo. Paulo didn’t seem to need much. His teeth were gritted and his hips were beginning to stutter. Alvaro went again, hard, slow, thumb over slit. Repeat. “Come for me, Paulo. Come for me.”

And Paulo did. He came all over Alvaro’s hand and abdomen, hips jerking incoherently, hands grasping on to fistfuls of Alvaro’s hair. He breathed loud, hot, wet breaths into Alvaro’s mouth as he rode it out, his body rocking against Alvaro’s and smearing all his own come over Alvaro’s chest. He collapsed on Alvaro again once he was done, his legs wrapped around Alvaro’s waist and his arms around Alvaro’s shoulders, like he was a baby koala and Alvaro was his tree.

“You good?” Paulo whispered once he had enough air in him.

“Yeah, you?”

“Very.”

Then came a long, comfortable silence. Their chests heaved synchronously as they lay there, Alvaro staring at the ceiling and Paulo staring at Alvaro. Alvaro was sure he had some dumb look on his face, because Paulo had this really fond smile on his.

“Did I hurt you?” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro shrugged. “I guess, yeah, but. But it’s supposed to hurt, yeah?”

“Was it…was it too much?”

“No,” Alvaro breathed against Paulo’s forehead. He swept Paulo’s hair off his temple and pressed his lips against it. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said, followed by a short pause. “Alvi. Alvi, you don’t have to like it, you know?”

“But I do.”

“I mean. I mean, it doesn’t make you any less…into this relationship or anything.”

“I know,” Alvaro said softly. “I just. Does it hurt every time?”

“Yeah. But you get…sort of used to it. Like, when to anticipate it.”

“Paulo, I just. I just feel so lucky that…that I did this with you. My first time. You made it, I don’t know. So much less painful than I imagined. And I wouldn’t have wanted it to be with anyone who isn’t as gentle as you are. Someone who…someone who didn’t care so much about me.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah. I wish I’d had someone to do that for me, too. On my first time.”

“What happened on your first time?” Alvaro asked. He felt Paulo shift tensely. “I mean, if you want to talk about it.”

Paulo sighed. He placed his hand on Alvaro’s cheek, his thumb running softly over Alvaro’s stubble. “It was this guy…this guy from Córdoba. I saw him a few times at a gay bar, we hooked up a few times, and. And he wanted to do it to me with a dildo and I just, you know, like you, I wanted to try it. I’d already bought my first dildo but I hadn’t had the guts to try it yet, so yeah, it was cool for me. Anyway. It was…it hurt a lot, ‘cause he didn’t use enough lube. And he didn’t, I don’t know. Didn’t really care so much as long as he got it in.”

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro whispered. He moved to wrap Paulo up in a hug.

“No, I just,” Paulo shook his head. “It’s okay. The next few times, I did it myself. Until I knew I was ready for the real thing.”

“Does it hurt? Like…when I do it to you.”

“Told you, you sort of get used to it. As long as we always spit on our hands first, yeah? Or, like, use lots of lube.”

“You know, you were wrong,” Alvaro kissed Paulo on the temple again before combing his hand through Paulo’s hair. “You’re the brave one.”

Paulo gave a soft giggle. “I love you, Alvaro.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered, lips pressed to Paulo’s hair.

“So…we’re going to do this again, yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro murmured, slowly drifting. “Until I level up and get your fucking dick inside of me.”

“You know,” Paulo cleared his throat like he was embarrassed, but then excitedly continued anyway. “When it nails your prostate. Man, Alvaro. It feels amazing. It’s unlike any other feeling.”

“Yeah? Can’t wait.”

Paulo smiled. “What do you want to do for v-day?”

“I dunno,” Alvaro said, turning and wrapping his entire body around Paulo, sticky and sweaty abdomens plastered together. His lips formed the words against Paulo’s hairline, “Just want to lie here with you forever.”

Paulo smiled, tilting his head up a little to look at Alvaro. He looked like he was terribly happy to drown in Alvaro’s arms. “Yeah, we could do that,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Or you could cook me some paella again.”

“I will. After this nap.”

“Hey,” Paulo nudged Alvaro with all the space he had to move his arm. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Alvi. We have to go shower first.”

“Nooo, we don’t.”

“There’s lube up your butt hole.”

Alvaro sighed. He unwrapped himself from around Paulo and rolled off the bed. “Fine.”

“You’re going to have oily shit for a couple of days.”

“What,” Alvaro stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Paulo, who was lying sideways on the bed in one of those ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ poses. “Are you fucking around with me?”

“Nope,” Paulo said, popping the ‘p.’ He looked fucking smug and Alvaro was just. Half fond and half confused. “It’s going to just _slide_ out.”

“You’re gross, you know that?” Alvaro said as Paulo started to laugh.

“You love me for it,” Paulo pointed out. He hopped off the bed and grabbed Alvaro’s hand to drag him to the bathroom. “Come on. Stop dripping lube all over my floor.”

“I am not –“ Alvaro started, but turned to see that he _was_ , so he just shut up.

He collapsed on to Paulo when they were both under the hot shower stream. They stood there in a loose hug and let the water wash everything off, neither of them being bothered to make any effort to clean themselves. Alvaro cringed again when Paulo’s finger wandered to clean Alvaro’s hole, so Paulo made him squat while he washed it, and. And Alvaro felt like a _child_ , but he was just. He was so glad that Paulo was the one seeing him like this. That Paulo cared so deeply about him that he was willing to do these things for Alvaro. That he was willing to guide Alvaro, willing to help Alvaro learn, even though Alvaro literally had zero clue about all these things.

After a while Paulo made Alvaro stand up again, and he watched Paulo over his shoulder as Paulo sat on the tiled shower floor, holding the showerhead and directing it at Alvaro’s butt, watching the last drops of lube mix with the warm water. Alvaro smiled when Paulo peered curiously up at him.

“You are the most amazing boyfriend in this entire universe,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo laughed shyly, dropping his gaze to the ground. He gently rinsed the rest of Alvaro’s skin and passed Alvaro the shower head to put back up.

“Kinda weird to be saying that to me while I’m sitting under your butt, isn’t it?”

Alvaro grabbed Paulo’s hands and hoisted him to his feet. He let the water run over the both of them one last time before he shut it off, and then he wrapped Paulo in a big hug and he said, again, “You are the most amazing boyfriend in this entire universe.”

“Okay, I believe you now,” Paulo teased.

“Paulo, hey. Thank you.”

“For?”

“For…just now.”

Paulo laughed again, and well. Alvaro realised it was a little weird to thank his boyfriend for sex. But Paulo just grabbed a towel and used it to ruffle Alvaro’s hair dry, and said, “Yeah.”

By the time they were done, it was almost three in the afternoon and they decided that their hunger trumped Alvaro’s need to nap – or rather, Paulo decided that, so they got dressed and Alvaro started cooking paella with the rice he’d gotten from Spain for Paulo’s birthday while Paulo cleaned up his room and changed his sheets.

At the end of the day they were sprawled out on the living room floor, empty bowls around them and orange stains on their lips, and the FIFA menu screen on the TV. Paulo crawled over to Alvaro and rested his cheek on Alvaro’s chest. He was getting drowsy. Alvaro was, too.

“Happy Valentines’ day,” Alvaro whispered, his hand carding through Paulo’s hair.

“To you, too,” Paulo murmured.

“I love doing nothing with you. You’re the only person I would ever do nothing with.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you, Paulo.”

Alvaro didn’t hear the response, but he felt the warm breath of it against his chest as Paulo mouthed drowsily, “I love you, too,” and then rapidly fell asleep.

Alvaro rested his head on his arm and watched as Paulo’s head bobbed up and down with Alvaro’s breaths. He ran the fingers of free hand through Paulo’s hair again. Paulo was beautiful. Even the top of Paulo’s head was beautiful.

Alvaro closed his eyes. The floor wasn’t even that uncomfortable anymore.

\------

Paulo woke up in Alvaro’s arms as Alvaro was desperately trying (and failing) to carry him into the room. Bridal style.

“Sorry,” Alvaro whispered when Paulo nuzzled his face into Alvaro’s shirt with a little mumble.

“What time is it?”

“Like, eleven.”

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, we both slept.”

And then they reached the bed, and Paulo continued clinging on to Alvaro’s neck when Alvaro put him down, not letting go until Alvaro got into bed with him. He slid up shamelessly against Alvaro’s side and slid one of his thighs in between Alvaro’s.

“You wanna go back to sleep?” Alvaro asked.

“I’m not really sleepy anymore.”

“Sorry for waking you.”

“You sleepy?” Paulo asked. Alvaro shrugged. “Let’s just. Lie here.”

So they lay there silently, except for the sound of Paulo’s palm rubbing circles on the front of Alvaro’s t-shirt. And the sound of Alvaro’s palm slapping on to Paulo’s hand to swat him away because he was getting warm. And the soft ‘tsk’ that Paulo gave. And Alvaro’s soft giggle, and the sound of his lips pressing against Paulo’s forehead.

Finally, Paulo sighed. He couldn’t sleep, not after napping like, five hours or whatever. He checked the clock. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

“You still wanna sleep?” he asked Alvaro.

“Not really,” Alvaro said.

“We should celebrate v-day properly,” Paulo suggested.

“What?” Alvaro asked, stretching noisily. “How? And the day’s already over.”

“No, it’s not,” Paulo pointed at the clock. “It’s not midnight. And if we start before midnight, then it counts for v-day.”

“Yeah? Start what?”

And then Paulo suddenly had an idea. He tilted his head upwards to grin at Alvaro, who was looking super confused again. “How we’ve always celebrated things.”

Then he grabbed Alvaro’s hand and tugged until Alvaro got out of bed, and he made Alvaro put on his jeans and he led Alvaro to the door and grabbed both their jackets. And gloves. Which were still too fucking tiny for Alvaro’s hands, but it was still chilly outside and Paulo didn’t want him to freeze. He pulled Alvaro’s hood over his head, followed by his own.

Alvaro gave a soft laugh when they stepped out the door hand-in-hand, finally understanding what Paulo was up to. He held Paulo’s hand tightly, half hooking their arms together, as they walked down the empty street. Midnight on a Sunday night wasn’t so bad.

They reached that very same corner again, where instead of turning back around, Alvaro led Paulo to an empty stoop in a side alley and sat down. He pulled his hood more tightly over his head, and Paulo’s over his; and then he grabbed Paulo by the sides of his head and planted his freezing lips on Paulo’s.

Paulo smiled, his heart soaring when Alvaro smiled back. He gently worked his lips around Alvaro’s until they became warm and soft and less chapped. He let Alvaro’s gloved hands wander all over him. Making out in a dark alley was, well. Something Paulo never imagined himself doing. But then again, being in a relationship with Alvaro – being in any relationship that was so fulfilling, so happy, and so warm and loving with someone who understood him so well and so thoroughly without him even saying a word – was also something Paulo never imagined himself doing.

Alvaro was panting when he pulled away, his head pressed against Paulo’s and the fog of his breath warming Paulo’s cheeks. “I love you, Pau,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Paulo closed his eyes. His world was spinning with the brown pools of love in Alvaro’s eyes. “We should…we should get home, I think. We have training tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro’s thumb ran softly across Paulo’s cheek. “Hey, remember when we stayed up all night googling each other and then got trouble for fucking up during training?”

Paulo laughed. “Yeah, fuck, we were so dumb.”

“We still are, don’t you think?”

Paulo smiled at the ground. Alvaro took off both his and Paulo’s gloves and shoved them in his pocket, taking Paulo’s bare hand. They walked silently save for their shoes crunching along in the snow.

And then Alvaro said, “Do you think we’ll get to do this for real one day?”

“This?” Paulo lifted Alvaro’s hand.

“Yeah, like. In the day. When people are around.”

“I don’t know, Alvi,” Paulo said softly. He didn’t know about this world anymore. He didn’t want to even _think_ of how they could possibly be treated by homophobic fans. Homophobic people on the street in general. He didn’t want to think of Alvaro upset because of it. He just. Paulo just wanted to shield Alvaro from this world he was so familiar with. “I, um. I hope one day we can, though.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, and he looked so hopeful and Paulo wanted to wrap him in a warm blanket and hug him all day. “Me, too.”

Instead of going straight back to sleep when they got home, they got two chairs and like, ten pillows and blankets and sat in front of the window, watching the street below get pelted with the rain that had suddenly started falling. It was comfortably silent and Alvaro had this completely peaceful look on his face. Paulo wanted to frame it up. Paulo wanted to capture that moment in a jar and use it as a nightlight because it lit up his entire world. He took his phone and sneakily snapped a photo of himself, with Alvaro in the background gazing dreamily out the window.

He texted it to Alvaro with the caption: _For your scrapbook, 14 th February 2016._

Alvaro smiled when his phone buzzed and he saw the message. _Creep_ , he typed as his reply.

Paulo dumped both their phones on the windowsill and burrowed himself deep into Alvaro’s arms instead. “Love you, Alvi.”

“Love you, too,” Alvaro whispered. “For all of eternity.”


	37. Your Eyes They Shine So Bright, I Wanna Save That Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've added more songs to the playlist ([Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/3VhjeM5HLitEyiMD7xCs1I) & [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlppYluHO6Ze_1YiEMuDV2cncufdIiR3Y)). Also a reminder that I've arranged the songs in the order that I meant them to be listened to. Do give the playlist a try if you're interested and let me know what you think about it! Thank you all so much :)
> 
> Title is from Demons by Imagine Dragons.

The text came after Juve’s drab 0-0 draw against Bologna.

Paulo stared at his phone in disbelief as he sat in bed, waiting for Alvaro to get out of the shower. He burrowed himself deeper into the covers. Paulo just. Paulo couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He didn’t notice Alvaro getting out of the shower until Alvaro was right beside him, plopping down on the bed and asking, “Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Uh, nothing,” Paulo quickly locked his phone. “Nothing.”

“It’s not porn, is it?”

“Why, you jealous?”

“No, I’m not,” Alvaro said nonchalantly.

“You totally are,” Paulo poked him in the cheek. He placed his phone reluctantly on the table, reminding himself to get back to the text once he could. “Sleep?”

“I’m a little hungry. You want a sandwich?”

“Nah,” Paulo smiled, but picked up his phone again and got up. “I’ll sit with you while you eat.”

Paulo sat in the living room as Alvaro busied himself in the kitchen. He opened the text again and stared at it some more. A text from one of his friends from Palermo, reading, _Dude, is this you?_

And attached to it were two photographs of Paulo, taken from across the street along his and Alvaro’s apartments, buried in his huge jacket with the hood pulled over his head. He was looking in the direction of the camera but not right at it, and he had this. This look of absolute joy in his face. He was smiling, mid-conversation with a taller person whose face was turned away from the camera. In the first photo, the taller figure was leaning towards Paulo, like he was kissing Paulo on the head.

In the second photo, it was obvious that Paulo and the taller figure were holding hands.

Paulo knew immediately when those photos were from – from the night of 14th February, when he and Alvaro were taking their walk down the street. Hand in hand. Smiling, happy. He recognised Alvaro’s jacket and jeans. He recognised himself, holding Alvaro’s hand and smiling at Alvaro.

The photo had everything it needed to incriminate Paulo. Paulo was holding hands with someone else whom people could very obviously tell was another male. Paulo was smiling at him. Paulo practically had hearts in his eyes. The photos were strangely clear, leading Paulo to believe that whoever had taken them had seen them coming down the street, and had enough time to set up their phone or whatever to take the photo when they got closer.

But it had no evidence whatsoever to incriminate Alvaro.

And that was how Paulo made up his mind that Alvaro did not need to know about this at all.

 _When was this?_ Paulo replied, even though he knew perfectly well when they were taken.

_I dunno, somewhere around Valentines’ day, in the middle of the night?_

_Where did you get them?_

_My friend in Turin sent them to me, said it’s creepy how there’s a gay guy who looks exactly like you in Turin._

_It isn’t me._

_Okay._

_Tell your friend it isn’t me, okay? I don’t go out so late at night._

_Okay._

_And don’t send this to anyone. Tell him not to send it to anyone._

_Sure, Paulo. Sorry._

_It’s okay._

_Really looks like you, though. Just saying._

Paulo’s fingers hovered over his phone. He had to find a way to brush this off as if it wasn’t a big issue.

 _Does he?_ Paulo eventually typed. _I’m flattered. He’s cute._

He received a row of that half laughing-half crying emoji, so he locked his phone and set it aside. It was just in time, too, because Alvaro reappeared with his sandwich.

“Why’re you so busy today?” Alvaro said with his mouth full. “I’m feeling neglected.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. He leaned his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder. “I’ll always have time for you.”

Alvaro grinned proudly, reaching for the remote and lazily flipping through the channels. Sometimes, at times like this, Paulo felt grateful for how _fucking clueless_ Alvaro was. Alvaro was. Alvaro was just so thoroughly innocent and trusting towards Paulo, and Paulo couldn’t even remember a single time where Alvaro had questioned Paulo’s intentions or refused to believe Paulo. And it made Paulo feel guilty for keeping things like this from him even though he knew it was for Alvaro’s good.

“Alvi.”

“Hmm?” Alvaro licked the last bits of his sandwich off his fingers.

“I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you, okay?”

“Yeah? Okay,” Alvaro said. He sounded worried, and Paulo wondered for a second if he’d given anything away. Alvaro sat up and pushed Paulo away from him, holding on to Paulo by his shoulders. “Paulo, is anything wrong?”

“No,” Paulo said, although that was an opening, it was an opening right there for him to tell Alvaro what was going on. “I just. Want you to know I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Alvaro whispered. He kissed Paulo softly on the lips. “So, so much.”

Paulo smiled. He clung on to the collar of Alvaro’s shirt, afraid that if he let go, Alvaro would disappear.

“Let’s go sleep, okay?” Alvaro said. He kissed Paulo in the middle of his forehead before standing up and grabbing Paulo’s hand.

Paulo followed him obediently into the bathroom, where they both brushed their teeth silently. Paulo lay down on his side facing Alvaro when they climbed into bed. He ran his fingers through Alvaro’s hair, knowing from all the times he’d done it before that it soothed Alvaro and put him right to sleep.

It did. Alvaro closed his eyes and relaxed, and just a couple of minutes later Paulo saw him go completely slack, his slightly upturned lips falling apart a little. He ran his fingers through Alvaro’s hair a few more times. He loved seeing Alvaro this way; happy, relaxed, so completely free of any worries.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you sleep?” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro didn’t reply, of course, just continued sleeping peacefully. Paulo smiled and pressed his lips softly against Alvaro’s head, careful not to wake Alvaro up. He took one of Alvaro’s hands and placed it on his own cheek. It had always felt reassuring when he fell asleep to Alvaro’s touch. It had always made Paulo feel so safe. And on that night, it was no different.

\------

Paulo scored his first ever Champions League goal against Bayern ten days after Valentines’ day and he was so fucking overjoyed he could barely sit down for the next three days. Alvaro even intentionally played out the entire re-run a couple of times so Paulo could watch his goal again. He loved seeing the look of pure childish _joy_ on Paulo’s face. Paulo rarely got any chance to behave like a child. To _feel_ like a child. Alvaro was going to let him live it out.

It put Alvaro in such a good mood that he wasn’t even bothered that Paulo hadn’t celebrated his goal with him.

Their draw against Bayern was followed by a slew of domestic victories that made sure they stayed at the top of the table _and_ made it to the Italian cup final. They were on a literal high.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

Alvaro rushed inside once Allegri blew the whistle that signalled the end of training. He stumbled into the medical room and found Paulo lying on one of the beds, a grimace on his face as someone poked around his leg.

Alvaro went right up and shoved his way onto the bed next to Paulo, much to the annoyance of the medical staff. He wrapped his arms around Paulo as Paulo slumped gratefully onto his chest, face pushed into the front of Alvaro’s sweaty jumper.

“Hurts?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo nodded silently. He lay there against Alvaro’s chest, eyes closed, eyelashes fanned beautifully over his cheeks. He only nodded or shook his head when he was asked questions about his calf. He was brought to the hospital for a scan and Alvaro followed him in his sweaty training suit, only having time to change his shoes.

By the time they got home in the late evening Paulo looked thoroughly exhausted. He sat in the passenger seat with his tired eyes half-closed, heavy bags below them. Alvaro turned off the engine and got out of the car, making it to Paulo’s side before Paulo could take a step.

“I can walk by myself,” Paulo said when Alvaro crouched over so Paulo could climb on him.

“I know,” Alvaro said, but continued crouching.

Paulo sighed and gingerly climbed onto Alvaro’s back, his arms wrapped loosely around Alvaro’s neck. He pressed his cheek against Alvaro’s and it was warm. It was the kind of warmth that immediately took over Alvaro’s entire body. Alvaro brought him straight to the bathroom and, before Paulo could open his mouth to protest, ran a hot bath and stripped Paulo of all his clothes.

“I can take care of myself,” Paulo said.

“I know,” Alvaro said again, because. Because he _did_. Paulo had _always_ been taking care of himself. It was just. Just that now, he didn’t need to.

Alvaro helped Paulo into the bath and watched as Paulo sat down, his facial features softening upon feeling the soothing lavender-scented water. He sat down on the toilet and just. Just watched Paulo. He felt like he could never take his eyes off Paulo ever again. Not because he thought that anything bad would happen to Paulo, but just. Just because Paulo was the most beautiful person Alvaro had ever seen.

“Hey,” Paulo suddenly called. He gave the water a little splash, and Alvaro wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there in his daze staring at Paulo so he thought the water was turning cold. He got up and stuck his hand in the water only to find it still warm, so he turned to Paulo, who said, “Alvi. Come inside with me.”

“I’ll hurt you,” Alvaro said.

Paulo shook his head. “No,” he mouthed.

So Alvaro took off all his clothes and climbed inside, sitting down across from Paulo. A smile lit up Paulo’s face as he quickly reached over to pull the plug so the water wouldn’t overflow, before stuffing it back in again. Alvaro reached over and curled his fingers around Paulo’s ankle.

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah?” Alvaro whispered. Paulo nodded, his gaze turning downward, like he was purposefully avoiding Alvaro’s eyes. “Pau. I love you.”

Paulo smiled at the lavender-tinted water. “Maybe this is a good thing,” he said, barely audible.

“What?” Alvaro asked. “Why would you say that?”

Paulo shrugged, still avoiding Alvaro’s worried gaze. “Just, maybe. Maybe you’ll get to play more now that I can’t.”

And Alvaro’s heart just. Just fell right to the bottom of the bath and down the drain. Just the thought that. That Paulo wasn’t too affected by his injury for one sole reason, that being that Alvaro could have more playing time. That this was the only bright spark he managed to get out of it.

“Paulo, don’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“I just don’t want you to think that.”

“I mean, I probably won’t be able to go to Munich, and –“

“Paulo.”

“– and you’ll get to play there and maybe Allegri –“

“Stop talking, Paulo.”

“– will see that you deserve to play a little more, and if I have to be absent for that to happen –“

“Shut up,” Alvaro said, a little more loudly than he’d intended. He lunged across the length of the bath and placed his palm over Paulo’s mouth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“I just want to see you happy,” Paulo said, his voice muffled.

“I am,” Alvaro promised.

“No. On the pitch.”

Alvaro sighed. He removed his hand from Paulo’s mouth and gently pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, trying to hide the reluctance in his voice.

“It does,” Paulo said earnestly, correcting Alvaro. “Alvaro, this has always been your dream. To play football. And now, now I feel like I’ve been taking it away from you –“

“Paulo, stop talking like that.”

“I’m just saying. I’m just saying that maybe now you’ll get to play much more, and maybe that’s a good thing.”

“It isn’t if you have to be injured in order for it to happen,” Alvaro pointed out. Sure, it sucked not playing as much as he used to. But he couldn’t deny that Paulo deserved it more. That Paulo was higher up Allegri’s choices than Alvaro was, and Paulo deserved it, and Alvaro was so fucking proud. Alvaro took Paulo’s head in his hands and turned Paulo to face him. “Paulo. Remember we said football comes first?”

Paulo nodded.

“It does, yeah, okay? I don’t want you to feel like, like just because we’re in this relationship, we can’t have some healthy competition in the squad. Because we can. It’s not just about us two.”

“I know, I know,” Paulo said, grabbing Alvaro’s wrists and pulling Alvaro’s hands off his cheeks. “I just. I want you to be happy, Alvi, that’s all I’ve _ever_ wanted.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro pressed his lips gently on Paulo’s. “Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Alvaro smiled.

They changed the water once and then dried themselves and got ready for bed. Paulo wrapped his entire body around Alvaro once they were under the covers, as if they weren’t already warm enough for the night. He was wholly on top of Alvaro, and Alvaro felt like he couldn’t breathe, but it was. It was amazing. He slid his arms under Paulo’s and gently rubbed Paulo’s back.

“Alvi,” Paulo started drowsily. “Can I say something again? About what we were talking about.”

And Alvaro. Alvaro didn’t want to hear it, but he said anyway, “Yeah.”

“Have you noticed Allegri doesn’t let us play together anymore? That time in Bologna…it was the last time we got to play together.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered. “Not really,” he lied. He _sorta_ noticed. He noticed giving Paulo high fives and hugs on the _side_ of the pitch, while being substituted in for Paulo, more often than _on_ the pitch.

“Alvaro,” Paulo urged.

“Look,” Alvaro said after a short pause. “We have four strikers and two positions. These things…these things happen. It’s not your fault that I don’t play, okay?”

“Do you think it’s because we’re together?”

“No, Paulo.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Allegri isn’t petty.”

“But I want you to play,” Paulo said sadly. And sleepily. And. And he sounded like he was going to cry. “Alvi, I want you to play football.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. He pressed his lips against Paulo’s temple. Paulo was so cute and chubby everywhere that he didn’t have any obvious veins, but on that day. On that day he had a bulging vein in his temple. “Paulo, stop blaming yourself. Stop fucking blaming yourself.”

“Are you mad?” Paulo sobbed. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Alvaro sighed. “Paulo.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I won’t talk about it anymore.”

“No,” Alvaro lifted Paulo’s head with his hands. Paulo had this utterly devastated look in his eyes. Eyes which were shimmering with tears. “Paulo, you can talk to me about anything, okay? I just. I just don’t think this is something to worry about, okay? Trust me?”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. “You don’t…don’t blame me?”

“Why would I?” Alvaro smiled encouragingly. “Paulo, you deserve this so fucking much, okay, and I’m so, so, _so_ proud I get to watch you. And it’s not like I don’t get to play anymore. I’m still playing, still scoring goals, and we’re still kicking ass, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Paulo said again.

“Yeah,” Alvaro promised. “Paulo. You can talk to me about _anything_ , okay? Literally _anything_. I just…don’t think you should worry about this. Okay?”

“Okay,” Paulo said softly.

“Now go to sleep and stop worrying your pretty little head, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” Paulo whispered. He tucked his head under Alvaro’s chin and then, a few moments later, tilted it upwards so his lips were resting on Alvaro’s neck. Alvaro could feel his own pulse ricochet off Paulo’s lips.

Alvaro fell asleep tightly clutching on to Paulo. He dreamt that he let go of Paulo and Paulo broke into a million little tiny pieces, and no matter what Alvaro did, he couldn’t put Paulo back together.

He woke up to Paulo shaking him worriedly, tears in his eyes again.

He didn’t let go of Paulo for the rest of the night.

\------

Paulo didn’t make it to Munich, but he watched the entire match, his eyes fixed so hard on the screen he wasn’t sure if he could remember to blink. He watched Alvaro start the match. He watched Alvaro fucking kick ass. He watched Alvaro play all the football he deserved but which Paulo felt responsible for robbing him of.

Alvaro was. Alvaro was so _fucking awesome_ , but Juve lost in the end; a bitter, unlucky loss.

Paulo knew how upset Alvaro was. He knew how upset the entire team was. But he didn’t dare to contact any one of them, so he just turned off the TV and lay there on the couch, his compression bandage warm around his calf. He waited until Alvaro called.

And Alvaro did, just before midnight.

He just stayed silent over the line, so Paulo eventually said, “Hey.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?” Paulo said, but didn’t get a reply from Alvaro. “Alvi, you did great. You did so great.”

“Not great enough.”

“Alvaro.”

“Maybe if you were here.”

“Alvaro, don’t say that. You guys got tired. It isn’t that easy to play against Bayern, you know that. You did so great, you all did so great.”

“I’m sorry I let you down.”

“You didn’t,” Paulo said firmly. “Okay? _You didn’t_. I swear to God, you didn’t, Alvaro Morata, and you better not be fucking moping around sadly in your hotel room with whoever the fuck your roommate is, or I’ll fucking fly to Munich right now and punch you.”

There was a moment of shocked silence from Alvaro, and then. And then a giggle which sent Paulo’s heart soaring up to the sky and. And made Paulo so damn _happy_.

“Simo’s my roommate,” Alvaro said softly. He sounded calmer.

“Well, he better not be moping around either or I’ll punch him too, tell him that.”

“Hey Simo, Paulo says he wants to punch you,” Alvaro said, away from the phone.

“What?! What did I do?” was Simone’s faraway response.

“Fuck you, Alvaro, that’s not what I said.”

Alvaro burst into laughter again and Paulo was just. Just so relieved. He didn’t care that this was only temporary. He would stay up all fucking night doing little things that made Alvaro laugh, all little temporary things that summed up to make Alvaro happy.

“Paulo says you should get your own room so we can sext in peace,” Alvaro said, to Simone, evidently.

“I didn’t say that either, Alvaro,” Paulo warned.

“What,” Simone said, and he sounded a little hurt.

“I’m not going to sext you, Alvaro.”

“Go away, Simo, he’s going to send me nudes.”

“You’re fucking disgusting, Morata.”

“I’m not sending him nudes!” Paulo yelled, hoping Simone could hear him.

“See, he’s yelling about nudes,” Alvaro said.

“Alvaro!”

“What the fuck,” Simone said, and then there was the sound of a door closing.

“He’s gone,” Alvaro said.

“Out of the room?” Paulo asked. “Alvi, what did you do?”

“He just went to shower, chill.”

“ _You_ chill.”

Alvaro laughed again. “Hey. Thanks.”

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Alvi, everything is going to be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And Paulo spent the rest of the night on the phone with Alvaro – he couldn’t help it, this was the first time in _forever_ that they’d been apart. The phone remained plastered against his ear save for a short moment while Paulo texted Simone, _I didn’t send him nudes._

 _I know_ , was Simone’s reply. _Good night._

Paulo fell asleep when he heard Alvaro’s steady breathing, a sign that Alvaro had stopped brooding enough to get some sleep.

\------

Alvaro returned from Munich still upset – which was something Paulo had already expected. This loss wasn’t the kind they got over easily. So Paulo spent most of his time following Alvaro around, gingerly stepping along with his compression bandage and barely making it to Alvaro’s destination before Alvaro turned back around to go somewhere else. Paulo’s leg didn’t hurt so much anymore; he even made it back to training. It was just a little strain, after all, and it was only hard for Paulo to walk because of all the different kinds of things he was supposed to wrap around it for it to recover.

Juve really didn’t have much time to be upset over the result in Munich before they had to play against Torino at the weekend.

Paulo made it to the squad. And started the match.

Alvaro stopped him just as they were about to leave the locker room for the start of the match. “You really up for this?” he asked. He had this. This really adorable worried expression on his face.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. He gently nudged Alvaro’s cheek. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt again, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re really really sure?”

“Alvaro, if I score a goal, will you shut the fuck up?”

“Yeah, I will,” Alvaro said, with a completely straight face.

“Okay, then I’ll score a goal.”

Alvaro burst into laughter. “You’re so sure about that?” he asked as the both of them hurried to catch up with the others.

“Yeah. Love you,” Paulo said, hugging Alvaro and pressing their cheeks together briefly before Alvaro headed outside to the subs bench.

It turned out to not be as fine as Paulo had expected it to be. He involuntarily held his breath whenever someone banged into him or shoved him or touched him so much as ran too close to him. He let it out as a relieved sigh when he realised that he wasn’t hurt. It was hard to focus on the game.

It was hard to focus on the game because Paulo could feel Alvaro doing the exact same thing as he was, on the bench.

Paulo sat on the ground after being knocked over, trying to catch his breath. He stuffed his socks more tightly into his shin pads. It wasn’t that he was particularly hurting anywhere, he just. He just got the breath knocked out of him.

He vaguely saw the Torino players arguing with the referee about something. About how they didn’t intentionally knock Paulo over, or whatever. But one of them suddenly popped up behind him saying, softly enough to remain unheard by anyone else but loudly enough for Paulo to hear, “Get the fuck up, Dybala, haven’t you spent enough time sitting on other men’s faces?”

Paulo froze for a moment, which probably wasn’t a good idea. His head whipped around to see who it was, but it was already too late – there was a congregation of like, four Torino players behind where he was, strategizing about the free kick Juve had just been given.

Paulo stood up and dusted himself off slowly. He thought maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe no one had said anything _that_ mean to him. But this was the Derby della Mole. Even if someone _had_ , Paulo thought maybe it was just the intensity, the emotions spilling out.

But Paulo couldn’t help but be distracted, more distracted than he already had been. Maybe someone had. Someone had seen that photo of him. This was Turin, Torino was a Turin club, too, anyway. Maybe that guy had connections to Torino, too.

Paulo just sort of drifted around the game the next couple of minutes. He shook his head a few times to clear it but only heard it rushing back, more loudly each time. It became as loud as a fucking waterfall, and Paulo just. He was so tired and he wanted to fucking _cry_. He wanted to know _who it was_ , but it wasn’t like he could just march into the Torino dressing room and demand to know who it was, risking everyone else finding out. He wanted to know who it was, not so he could be mad at the guy but because he wanted to know if anyone knew it was Alvaro. Because Paulo. Paulo was willing to be outed like that, as long as Alvaro wasn’t. As long as Alvaro was safe.

When the next free kick was given, the ball was handed to Paulo.

Paulo put his everything into the kick, but – but he forgot to brace his legs properly as he ran and kicked the ball. He felt a sharp, piercing pain on the back of his right thigh. He fell to the ground, waving to the bench. He saw Alvaro already on his feet, not because Allegri was waving and yelling at him to get ready, but. But because he’d seen Paulo fall.

Paulo was led to the side as they applied the magic spray on him. He saw Alvaro already dressed, pulling on a bib and running down the sidelines to warm up. And Paulo thought, maybe this wasn’t so bad. Of _course_ , he didn’t try to get injured intentionally, but. But Alvaro getting to play was at least something good to come out of it.

Paulo returned to the match for two minutes before he was substituted out for Alvaro.

He avoided Alvaro’s worried gaze when they met at the touchline. He placed his hands on Alvaro’s outstretched ones as a high five, but that was all. He slid out of Alvaro’s grasp before Alvaro could give him a hug. Paulo just. He couldn’t touch Alvaro. He couldn’t let _whoever it was_ know that it was Alvaro. And he wanted to sit down. Not because his leg hurt but because. Because the stadium was suddenly spinning and Paulo wanted to cry again and he was so fucking _tired_.

He sat down on the bench and nodded at whatever the medic was telling him even though he hadn’t heard a word. But it seemed to work out, because they brought over an ice pack and strapped it over Paulo’s thigh.

_Haven’t you spent enough time sitting on other men’s faces?_

Paulo slapped his hands over his face before anyone could see him cry. No one was supposed to know. No one except Paulo’s mom and Franco and Isco and Marta and Alvaro and their Juve teammates and Allegri and Paulo guessed maybe some of his Palermo teammates knew he was bi, and – and _none_ of those people would have told. _None of them_. Paulo couldn’t let anyone know. He couldn’t let _anyone_ know not because Paulo was afraid to be gay, but because he was afraid of what would happen to Alvaro in all the crossfire.

He sat there in his daze until Alvaro suddenly popped up next to him, asking, “Hey, how you feeling?” and Paulo realised it was half-time.

He didn’t answer Alvaro’s question, just stood up and walked down the tunnel with everyone else, limping slightly. He sat and listened to Allegri’s half-time talk, managing to sneak his phone out of his jeans pocket and type a hasty text to his Palermo friend, _Did you guys send the pic to anyone?_

There was no reply even at the end of half-time. Paulo wanted to stay inside because, well. He was tired and he wanted to be alone so he could cry and he didn’t see what use it would be for him to go back outside.

But Alvaro grabbed his arm and said, “C’mon, you gotta come back outside,” and Paulo was immediately so much less reluctant.

“I don’t feel like it,” Paulo said, knowing fully well that he had the right to stay inside and get ‘treated by the medics.’

“You gotta come out. I’m going to score and you’re going to watch me.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. Alvaro was staring earnestly at him and all he could do was look at anywhere but Alvaro’s face. “Okay, yeah.”

He let Alvaro lead him outside excitedly, and he sat down on the bench as Alvaro returned to the pitch. Paulo could barely focus on the game. He wanted to be on the pitch, but. But at the same time he didn’t. He would’ve probably pulled the entire team down.

Paulo was suddenly hit by this crippling fear, this devastating image that the player who had said those words to Paulo was going to say them to Alvaro, too. Part of Paulo knew that there was no reason he should worry, because there was no word and there was _going to be no word_ that Alvaro was the other guy in the photo.

But it made him more alert, anyway, and he sat up in the bench and watched Alvaro’s every move. He strained to read the lips of anybody who stepped near Alvaro. No one seemed to say anything that angered Alvaro, which relieved Paulo a little.

Alvaro scored the last two goals of the match and Juve retreated into the locker room a happy team.

Paulo checked his phone and saw his friend’s reply. _No, but idk, maybe his friends know, why?_

 _Nothing, thanks,_ he typed and sent. Anything more and it would have been too suspicious. Maybe Paulo was just being paranoid. Just one other footballer knowing about it didn’t mean that everyone was going to know. Or maybe. Maybe he was just spewing shit because calling other people gay was still considered an insult, even in 2016. Paulo sighed. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and waited for everyone to come back from the showers.

“Congrats,” Paulo said when Alvaro sat down.

“Thanks,” Alvaro smiled. “You didn’t score, so I scored once for me and once for you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo chuckled. “Thanks, Alvi.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem a little…distracted.”

“I’m okay.”

Alvaro reached over and cupped Paulo’s chin, turning Paulo to face him. His big brown eager eyes travelled every inch of Paulo’s face before he smiled again, a tiny upward twitch of his lips. “You sure?”

Paulo nodded. Alvaro leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and – and he was going to kiss Paulo, and Paulo was suddenly just. Just not sure if they should continue with all the PDA. He turned his head towards the side so Alvaro kissed his cheek instead of his lips.

Alvaro appeared a little confused, which, well. Paulo didn’t blame him for. Paulo cleared his throat and stood up. “Um, we should go, or we’ll miss the bus.”

Alvaro stood up, a puzzled look on his face. He checked that they hadn’t left anything behind before he grabbed on to Paulo’s hand and held on to it. And Paulo let him, because. Because despite all that was happening, Alvaro’s touch still never failed to make Paulo feel safe. Because even if they could never do anything in front of anyone, even their teammates, ever again, all Paulo needed was to hold Alvaro’s hand, all he needed was to know Alvaro existed, and Paulo would be okay.

\------

Alvaro was jolted awake by a loud thumping noise.

“Who’s that?” he asked. There was no answer.

Alvaro rolled around in bed – gingerly, because well. He and Paulo’d had a wild night, and. And let’s just say Alvaro had levelled up in the size department.

Paulo wasn’t there.

Alvaro found a random pair of Paulo’s boxers on the floor and put them on. He wandered outside to look for Paulo, going in the direction from which he’d heard the sound.

And he found Paulo in the entryway by the coat hangers and shoes, wearing Alvaro’s sweatpants. He had a pair of Alvaro’s light-coloured jeans slung over his shoulder and was currently searching for something in the winter jackets hanging on the wall, pausing every few seconds to dig into their messy pile of shoes, and. And was Paulo _sleepwalking_? In all the years Alvaro had known him, Alvaro hadn’t known Paulo sleepwalked. Which made the entire thing so much more confusing.

“Paulo?” he called across the hall. It only made Paulo more flustered, desperately flipping all the coats around to find what he wanted. Alvaro hurried over and stopped by Paulo just in time for Paulo to finally unhook one army green jacket and clutch it tightly to his chest.

“I found it,” he was whispering. “I found it. I found it.”

“Paulo, what the fuck is going on?”

“Alvi,” Paulo turned around. He looked so upset and desperate and. And there were tears streaming down his cheeks and Alvaro wasn’t even sure if Paulo was awake or if he was just having a really bad dream and Alvaro. Alvaro wasn’t even sure if _he_ was awake. Maybe this entire thing was a nightmare. “Alvi, don’t wear these, okay? Don’t wear these ever again.”

“What?” Alvaro asked. He tried to take the jacket from Paulo but Paulo had a death grip on it. “Paulo, what’s going on? Are you…are you awake?”

“I’m awake, God damn it!” Paulo yelled. “I wish I wasn’t. I wish I wasn’t awake.”

“Paulo, tell me what’s going on.”

“Just,” Paulo sobbed. He collapsed into Alvaro’s arms. “Just don’t wear these, don’t wear them ever, ever, _ever_ again, okay, Alvaro? Please.”

“Okay, okay,” Alvaro sat down on the ground and hoisted Paulo into his lap. He was suddenly really scared. “Will you tell me why?”

“Just don’t wear them,” Paulo whispered weakly.

“What’s going on, Pau? Why are you awake in the middle of the night?”

“I just want you to be safe, Alvi, I want you to be safe.”

Alvaro tried to take his jeans off Paulo’s shoulder but Paulo grabbed it before he could. He hugged Paulo close to his chest as Paulo hugged both items of clothing to his, his shoulders shaking violently with how hard he was crying.

“Paulo, what’s going on?” Alvaro whispered. “You’ve been so. So distant the past few days. Will you tell me what happened? I know it’s not because you’re injured. You don’t get this way when you’re injured. Did something happen? Paulo. Paulo, please tell me.”

There were a few minutes of silence as Paulo’s sobs died down and he moved to hold one of Alvaro’s hands with both of his. “I can’t tell you,” Paulo said, his voice thick.

“Why not?”

“This shouldn’t have happened,” Paulo whispered. “Tonight, this. This entire thing. It shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry I woke you, I tripped over a shoe and. And. Alvaro, you should go back to sleep.”

“No,” Alvaro said. “Not until you tell me what happened.”

“I can’t tell you,” Paulo said, starting to cry again. “I’m going to hurt you and you’re going to be angry and I love you, Alvaro, and I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Does it involve me?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo nodded. And then shook his head. “No. No. It doesn’t.”

“Paulo.”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo sobbed. “Alvaro, I’m sorry. You’re going to hate me and I don’t want you to hate me and I’m sorry.”

“I won’t hate you.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. I love you.”

Paulo sighed, resting his head on Alvaro’s arm and tilting it up to look at Alvaro. Alvaro gently wiped the tears off his cheeks. Paulo hadn’t spoken much, if at all, the last few days. He had discreetly been slipping out of Alvaro’s grasp and avoiding Alvaro’s kisses. And Alvaro was leaving to be with his national team in a few hours. How could he bear to leave Paulo alone at home while he was. While he was like _this?_

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered again, just so Paulo _knew_. He ran his fingers softly across Paulo’s forehead, pausing to smoothen Paulo’s hair back on his head.

The corners of Paulo’s lips twitched upwards a little. He raised a hand and pressed it against Alvaro’s cheek. Alvaro leaned into his touch, his cold and nervous but still reassuring touch. “Alvaro, I’m sorry.”

And then. And then everything that had happened the past couple of days just. Just all fell on Alvaro like he had been sitting behind a crumbling brick wall. Alvaro’s vision began to blur. His heart began fucking _jumping_ out of his chest. If the reason Paulo had been so distant was the same reason he said ‘I’m sorry’ instead of ‘I love you too,’ then – then was he going to break up with Alvaro? Alvaro grabbed Paulo by the shoulders and held him at arms’ length.

“Paulo. Paulo, do you not want this relationship anymore?”

Paulo’s eyes widened and. And a look of complete, utter _fear_ took over them. He hurriedly grabbed Alvaro’s forearms, fingers squeezing the blood supply out of them. “No. No. Alvaro, I do. I do, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro whispered. “It’s just, you won’t talk to me, and –“

“No, no,” Paulo sobbed. “No. I want this. I just.”

“What the hell is going on?” Alvaro asked weakly. He was suddenly so tired. Relieved, but tired as fuck.

Paulo just sat and stared sadly at Alvaro. He lifted Alvaro’s hands off his shoulders and held them, thumbs running gentle circles on the back. He swallowed a few times, cleared his throat, but didn’t start speaking, like he was afraid of what Alvaro’s reaction would be.

And then he finally said, “I got a text from my friend in Palermo.”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro mumbled when Paulo didn’t continue. He moved one of his hands to cup Paulo’s face again.

“About a month ago. And today, just after you went to sleep, I got another text from someone else, someone in Turin.”

“What did they say?”

Paulo reached for his phone, which had fallen to the ground next to him. He dug up the text and passed the phone to Alvaro.

Valentines’ night. On the street. Paulo and Alvaro, talking excitedly to each other. Hand in hand. _Dude, is this you?_

“What does the other text say?” Alvaro asked. His hands had begun to shake.

Paulo dug out the text from his friend in Turin. _Lol Paulo, this fag rly looks like you,_ it said. Attached were the same two photographs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Paulo sobbed. “No one can tell it’s you. They can only tell it’s me. And they don’t _have to_ know it’s you, Alvi, I’m not going to say anything. If I get outed, then. Then it’ll just be me, and not you, and no one will have to find out you’re gay, and –“

“Paulo, shhh,” Alvaro wrapped his arms around Paulo. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Paulo said. “Alvaro, I get it now. I get what you mean when you said you didn’t want this relationship because you wanted me to be safe, you didn’t want to turn my world upside down. Because. Because now I feel that way, too. Now I get it. I want you to be safe, Alvaro, I want you to be safe and I’m so fucking sorry and I don’t know what to do, Alvi.”

“It’s not your fault, baby,” Alvaro whispered into Paulo’s hair. “It’s not your fault, I just. Why didn’t you tell me? You know you can tell me anything, right? You didn’t have to keep this all to yourself and get so stressed out and have a breakdown like this, Paulo, I love you so much.”

“I love you, Alvi. I love you.”

“Has anyone else said anything about this?”

Paulo started telling him, agonisingly slowly and in detail, about his encounter in the Torino match just two days ago. He told Alvaro he’d texted his Palermo friend who’d said the photo hadn’t been spread, but. But who knew who had already _known_ about the photo before they were told not to spread it? Alvaro cringed when he heard the part about Paulo sitting on other men’s faces. It was just. It was a horrible thing to assume someone’s sexuality, for one, without even knowing him; and secondly, there wasn’t even anything wrong with doing it. Alvaro suddenly just. Just really wanted to know who it was so he could punch him in the fucking face. No one was allowed to say those kinds of things to Paulo. _No one._

“And you weren’t planning to tell me about this at all?” Alvaro asked. He was fucking scared but the thought of Paulo going through all of this alone made him even more afraid and guilty, the horrible feeling at his gut threatening to rip him apart from the inside.

“I don’t know,” Paulo was sobbing again. “Alvaro, please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Alvaro mustered a smile, even though he was scared out of his wits; because he knew after all, Paulo had good intentions. “I promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you dump these clothes?”

“Paulo, I’m not the only one in Turin with a pair of baby blue jeans.”

“You’re definitely the only one who calls them ‘baby blue jeans,’” Paulo pointed out.

And then he started laughing, which just made Alvaro so relieved. Alvaro gently poked him on the nose. “I won’t wear the both of them at the same time, is that okay?”

“Yeah? Okay.”

“What were you planning to do?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shrugged. “Let the world think I’m gay. Because. Because I am, kinda. Gay.”

“You can’t just wipe out bisexuals like that.”

“People won’t get it,” Paulo said sadly. “Alvaro. You don’t have to be involved in this, okay? They’ll just…just think it’s me, and I’ll let them, and this tall mysterious figure will just be some anonymous fellow, okay?”

“Ouch,” Alvaro teased.

“Tall, mysterious, _fucking sexy_.”

Alvaro smiled. He gently cradled Paulo in his arms, just thinking. Thinking about what the fuck came next. If he should let Paulo carry all of this on his own, like he’d been planning. He was glad that he and Paulo could see each other’s points of view more clearly now – Paulo about Alvaro’s reluctance and Alvaro about Paulo’s recklessness. But it didn’t give them any answers to how they were going to handle this.

But Alvaro looked down at Paulo, lying in his arms, looking so much more peaceful after telling Alvaro everything than he did thirty minutes ago, looking so much more peaceful now that _Alvaro was in this with him,_ and Alvaro knew.

“Paulo,” he whispered. Paulo’s eyes opened a little more. “Let’s go public.”

“What?” Paulo asked, awake immediately, his eyes slowly being clouded by fear. And shock, but mostly fear. “But…but your family.”

“I’ll tell them,” Alvaro said. “They’ll be here to watch me play Italy, and then they’ll fly to Romania too, and I have two days before our training starts again. I’ll go back to Madrid with them and tell them.”

“But your dad,” Paulo said, and he was in tears again, and Alvaro hated, _hated_ doing this to Paulo.

“He’ll just have to understand,” Alvaro whispered. He was terrified and desperate and a million other things at once but he knew this was something he had to do eventually, and the longer he kept it from his parents, the more hurt they’d be. “If he loves me, then. Then he’ll understand.”

“Alvaro, you don’t have to do this for me,” Paulo sobbed. “I swear, you don’t have to, I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do this.”

“You’re not. Paulo, you have to get this, okay? _You have to get this._ You’re not making me do anything. You’re not manipulating me, you’re not forcing me to be in this relationship, you’re not ruining my life. I _want to do this_. Think about this, Pau. Once everyone knows, we’ll be free. We can go out on the street at fucking twelve noon and hold hands and make out. No more hiding. Because everyone will know, Paulo, and we can be ourselves. And…and I want that more than anything else. To hold you in public. To tell the entire world this beautiful, wonderful, kind, lovely man is my boyfriend and my best friend.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled, his voice shaking and his lower lip trembling. “I want that, too.”

“But if you’re not ready to come out, then we won’t do it, okay?”

“I am,” Paulo said. “It’s just. It’s not as simple as you think, Alvaro. Everyone is going to hate us. We can hold hands in the street, but. But people are going to throw trash at us, or whatever.”

Alvaro slid his hands up Paulo’s neck to Paulo’s cheeks, gently caressing them. Paulo leaned into his touch, pushing his face forwards into Alvaro’s palms. Paulo was. Paulo was beautiful. And in the dim light of the hallway at fucking three am or whatever, Alvaro could only see the specks of green that were Paulo’s eyes, two specks of light that would always guide Alvaro’s way no matter how dark or frightening it was.

Alvaro leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Paulo’s. They were soft from all his crying and they tasted bitter like this entire situation was, but they also tasted sweet with all the hope Paulo never failed to give Alvaro.

Alvaro pressed his forehead against Paulo’s, nuzzling their noses together.

“I don’t care,” he whispered.

Paulo closed his eyes, tears slipping out from the corners of his eyelids again.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro murmured. It was time for him to step up and fucking show Paulo how much he meant to Alvaro.

“I don’t want you to be hurt, Alvi, or attacked, or. Or hated.”

“And I’m not going to let you do this on your own. I’m not letting you possibly get hurt or attacked or hated _alone_.”

“I’m sorry I made you go outside with me on Valentines’ day.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sighed.

“I’m sorry, Alvi. It’s my fault.”

“I like going outside with you,” Alvaro said. “I really, really do. It’s just. It’s nice. Pretending that us being together…that it’s okay. Even if it isn’t real. It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled a wobbly smile. He lunged across the gap between him and Alvaro, straight into Alvaro’s arms, burying his face in Alvaro’s shoulder. “Yeah, me too, Alvi, me too, and. And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“If you say sorry one more fucking time I’ll punch you in the face and then dump you on the sidewalk.”

“But this is my house,” Paulo said, half laughing and half sobbing; and it was a sound that tore Alvaro’s heart into pieces but. But it was a beautiful sound. “Alvaro. Alvaro, you’re…you’re not mad at me, yeah? I mean, you should be, and I don’t want you to be but I’ll understand if you _are_ , because I kept this entire thing from you and –“

“Shut up,” Alvaro pressed his lips on Paulo’s again so Paulo would stop talking. “Shut up. Shut up.”

And Paulo did, his body sagging into Alvaro’s arms, lips gently brushing against the nook between Alvaro’s clavicles. “Okay, I just. I just need to know we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” Alvaro assured him. “Always, Paulo.”

Paulo smiled. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too,” Alvaro whispered; and then, because he’d just had a fucking wild time with a dildo up his ass less than four hours ago and was now sitting on the cold hard ground, “Can we go back to bed now? My butt hurts.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Yeah. You wanna wash your butt hole out first?”

Alvaro shook his head. They had drastically improved in the lube department and Alvaro was halfway to just using spit and he didn’t really feel anything slimy so it was probably all already on Paulo’s sheets, but anyway. “I just want you to get some sleep, okay, Paulo?”

Paulo didn’t answer, just let Alvaro hoist him to his feet and followed Alvaro silently back into the room. He let Alvaro cover him with the sheets and tuck them around him like he was a tiny burrito. He watched as Alvaro closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. He was still watching when Alvaro cracked an eye open to see if Paulo was sleeping.

“Pau, go to sleep,” Alvaro whispered. He placed his hand on Paulo’s cheek, below his ear, and gently ran his thumb over Paulo’s cheekbone. Paulo lying over there, wrapped up tightly and comfortably under the sheets with only his head popping out, his hair all flopped over on the pillow – it suddenly hit Alvaro again how beautiful he was.

Paulo didn’t reply, just snuck a hand out from under the sheets and hung on to Alvaro’s wrist as Alvaro continued stroking his cheek. His expression didn’t change; there wasn’t the tiniest smile, but neither was there a frown.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Alvaro said softly. He wasn’t so sure about exactly that, but he was completely sure about one thing: that Paulo needed to hear that. And Alvaro was going to do anything, _everything_ in his power to make sure that Paulo had a reason to believe him.

The corners of Paulo’s lips turned upwards as he closed his eyes, and it warmed Alvaro’s entire being. Paulo looked like. Like a tiny peaceful angel. Alvaro’s tiny peaceful angel.

“Do you want me to go with you to your parents’?” Paulo whispered.

“Do you want to?” Alvaro asked, because _of course_ he wanted Paulo to come. But not if Paulo wasn’t ready. Not if Paulo didn’t want to be there.

“Of course, yeah.”

“You’ll come for the matches too?”

“Okay.”

Alvaro smiled. Paulo wanted to be there for Alvaro as much as Alvaro wanted to be for him. And it had always made Alvaro so incredibly happy when he thought about it. Alvaro shimmied forward on the pillow, closing the gap between them slightly. He lifted his head to gently plant a kiss on Paulo’s lips before lying back down. “Have I ever told you you’re amazing?”

Paulo opened his eyes slightly before shutting them again with another bigger smile. From the brief glimpse Alvaro caught of them, they were less frustrated and worried, and more. More sleepy. Which was a good thing for that point of time.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. He gave a soft sigh and nuzzled his face into the pillow. “Doesn’t mean you should stop saying it, though.”

Alvaro smiled. He stayed awake just. Just holding Paulo’s hand and watching Paulo slowly fall asleep. Softly whispering to Paulo how amazing Paulo was, the reasons why he was so amazing, over and over again. Sneaking little kisses on Paulo’s lips. On Paulo’s cheeks. On the furrow in his brow which slowly straightened itself out.

Alvaro only fell asleep when he was sure Paulo had fallen asleep. When he was sure Paulo had already escaped to his own land of peace, his own dreams where everything was okay for a few hours. He only fell asleep when his tired eyes could no longer stay open to take in every single second, every single ounce of Paulo’s staggering, heart-stopping beauty.


	38. Please Don't Bury Us, I Got You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry (belated) Christmas! I hope you guys had an amazing time and got great presents :)
> 
> Title is from Runnin' (Lose It All) by Naughty Boy ft. Beyoncé and Arrow Benjamin.

Alvaro’s family greeted Paulo enthusiastically when he met them at the entrance of the VIP lounge of Stadio Friuli, where Alvaro was going to play against Italy. Marta bounded up excitedly to Paulo and hugged him tightly, completely engulfing him in her scarf and jacket and whatever pungent perfume she was wearing.

“Hey, lil brother,” she said happily.

“Uh, hey,” Paulo said, surprised at her keenness.

“How’s everything?”

“Good, yeah,” Paulo smiled.

“With you and Alvaro?” Marta asked, lowering her voice and discreetly guiding Paulo to the bar, away from her parents. “I didn’t get to talk to you two much on New Year, you were stuck together like glue.”

“Yeah?” Paulo laughed. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“He’s a handful sometimes. If he ever dares to fuck around with you, you let me know, okay?”

“He won’t, but yeah,” Paulo smiled. “Hey, uh, Marta?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re, um. We’re going to come out to your parents,” Paulo said softly. “After the two games, we’re going back to Madrid, and we’re going to tell your parents.”

“Yeah?” Marta smiled encouragingly. “That’s great.”

“Really? You don’t, um. Like, disapprove?”

“Who am I to disapprove?” Marta laughed kindly. “I know you’ve been in love with him since you were fifteen or whatever. And that’s all I need to know.”

“You’re okay with…with us?”

“Of course I am, you’re my favourite younger brother,” Marta wrapped an arm around Paulo’s neck. “Have been since I met you, ‘cause we both know Alvaro is an ass.”

“And do you think your parents…how do you think they’ll react?”

“Well,” Marta fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist. “I can’t say anything about that. But Paulo. I’m on your side, you know that, right? Whether my parents take it nicely or not, it doesn’t change my mind about the both of you.”

“Thank you.”

Marta’s smile grew wider as she half-hugged Paulo. “Of course,” she said happily, before letting go of Paulo and helping herself to a glass of champagne.

Paulo adjusted his cap on his head so it covered more of his face. He felt dumb wearing a cap indoors in the fucking VIP lounge, but. He didn’t want anyone to recognise him and find it suspicious. Plus, he didn’t really care so much about his image as long as he could get distracted by the love of his life running around on the pitch.

\------

Alvaro’s dad sat next to Paulo for both matches, talking to Paulo excitedly about everything that was happening on the pitch, like Paulo was a good replacement for Alvaro. And Paulo just. Paulo got along really well with Alvaro’s dad. Even after all these years, talking to him felt like talking to his own dad. It felt like Paulo had finally found his place again.

Paulo wondered if all of that, if _everything_ would change once Alvaro’s dad knew.

He lagged behind Alvaro’s family as they all went to the locker room area to wait for Alvaro. He saw Alvaro emerge from the rowdy locker room and, out of all the people there, catch sight of Paulo first. He saw Alvaro immediately start to bolt towards him. But Paulo gestured towards Alvaro’s waiting family, and Alvaro obliged.

Paulo hung around some distance away, leaning on a wall, cap pulled over his face so Alvaro’s teammates wouldn’t see him. Isco popped out for a few minutes to say hi, but seemed to notice how hard Paulo was trying to hide, so he just gave Paulo a friendly squeeze on the shoulder before disappearing back inside.

It wasn’t that Paulo was ashamed or anything. It was just that it was completely normal for him to tag along to watch Alvaro’s matches when he was sixteen because nobody knew him – but now everybody did, and rumours flew around as easily as dust particles. After all these years, there had been a subtle but definite change in the perceived context of Paulo and Alvaro watching each other’s matches. It was now totally weird for Paulo, an Argentine with no connection whatsoever to Romania or Spain, to come and watch the match. With Alvaro’s family. Unless, of course, he was _part of Alvaro’s family_.

Alvaro finally came over to him once his family finished cooing over him. He stood a couple of feet away from Paulo, leaning on the same wall. He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled a _dashing_ smile at Paulo and Paulo almost lunged over and kissed the fuck out of Alvaro but. But.

“You did great,” Paulo said.

Alvaro laughed, because well. The game had ended 0-0 and Alvaro had only played ten minutes. “Thanks for always saying that.”

“It’s true,” Paulo said earnestly.

Alvaro smiled at him again, this time with his dumb slanting brows and like, seven folds on his forehead, and _God_ , Paulo was so fucking fond he broke out into a grin. He reached over and gently squeezed Alvaro’s arm, letting go after two seconds.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. “I just. Do you remember…in 2011, when I played the junior Euros and you came to watch me?”

“Yeah, of course I remember.”

“It was here. In Romania,” Alvaro smiled. “And now we’re back here, together, and. I don’t know. It’s like we’ve come so far.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled, too, but at the ground because he was blushing so furiously. “Yeah.”

“And you said that was when Marta saw all the way through you because you couldn’t stop smiling, and now. Now that isn’t even the main issue anymore, the main issue is us coming out, and. I don’t know, Paulo, I don’t know what I’m trying to say but I just. I just love you so much and I’m so glad that you’re still here after all the crap I’ve given you.”

“Of course I am,” Paulo whispered. He could never have walked away even if he wanted to. “And nothing has changed, you still annoy the crap out of me.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder.

Paulo burst into an embarrassing fit of giggles. It was lucky no one was in earshot. He whispered, anyway, “Alvi, I really want to kiss you.”

Alvaro’s smile grew until it burst into a big grin. His eyes wandered eagerly over every inch of Paulo’s face. He stretched a hand over and grabbed Paulo’s pointer finger, bringing it to Paulo’s head. “In here,” he said.

“Okay,” Paulo mouthed.

Alvaro let go of Paulo’s hand when his teammates started streaming out of the locker room and his family came over to join them. Alvaro gave each of them a hug before he hurried inside to grab his things.

“See you at the airport,” he turned around to say as he rushed after his teammates towards the bus bay. Paulo, standing behind Alvaro’s family, tiptoed and blew him a kiss. He swore he saw Alvaro blushing as he turned back in front.

“Heart eyes, baby,” Marta muttered as she wrapped an arm around Paulo again. “Heart fucking eyes.”

\------

Paulo and Alvaro procrastinated an entire day after they reached Madrid before they finally got the guts to talk to Alvaro’s family.

Paulo tagged along behind Alvaro as he gathered his parents and Marta and brought them all to the living room. Alvaro’s parents sat opposite Paulo and Alvaro, but Marta, as a sign of solidarity, sat on the armrest of the armchair on which Paulo and Alvaro were sitting.

“Mom, dad,” Alvaro said, his voice shaking. He paused to clear his throat. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” his mom asked.

“I know it might…it might make you mad, or it might make you upset. But I want you to know that…that I never intended to make you mad or upset. I just, I’m trying to be myself. I’m trying to figure out who I am. And this…this is a part of it. Hopefully, a very big part of it. And I just hope that you’ll understand.”

“Alvaro, what is it?” his mom asked again, and she looked pretty worried, which made Paulo so anxious his palms started fucking sweating.

“Okay,” Alvaro closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Okay. Okay. So, you know, I’ve had my fair share of girlfriends. But I’m beginning to realise…that might not be what I really want.”

“You don’t want a girlfriend?” Alvaro’s dad asked. “That’s fine, we know you want to focus on your football.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s,” Alvaro sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want a…significant other. Because, um. Because I do. It’s just, now it’s not so straightforward anymore and I want you to understand, mom, dad. I want you to understand that things now, with me, they might not be what you’ve been expecting from me, for me, _at all_. And I’m really, really sorry if it upsets you, but this is who I am, this is a part of me that I’ve never given myself a chance to explore before, and now I’m going to, because it just feels so _right_. This is a part of me that I was so afraid of accepting. A part that I refused to believe was real. But _it is_ , and no matter how hard I try to deny it or push it away, for a million different reasons, I’ve realised I can’t.”

“And…and what is this part of you?” Alvaro’s mom asked patiently, but.

But his dad’s jaw had hardened, like he was already sure of what Alvaro was going to say. He stared right at Alvaro with the most intense, disbelieving gaze, like if he tried hard enough, his eyes were capable of cutting two holes straight through Alvaro.

“I’m, um,” Alvaro swallowed nervously. “I’m not…straight. Not heterosexual. I…like guys, too.”

An incredibly tense silence fell upon the room. Alvaro’s dad’s gaze had become stone cold, the two dark gemstones of brown now staring right through Alvaro instead of at him. Alvaro’s mom just looked thoroughly perplexed. Marta, like Paulo, was just staring at the both of them anxiously.

And then Alvaro’s mom finally said, “So…is there a particular boy you like?”

“Yeah, actually,” Alvaro said softly. He reached over to his side and took Paulo’s hand in his, placing it on his lap. “Paulo is, um. We’ve been…going out. He’s my…my boyfriend.”

And he turned and looked at Paulo and behind the pure, utter _fear_ in his eyes was the same overwhelming love that Paulo knew so well. Paulo gave him a small smile and the fear faded a little to the back.

“For how long?” Alvaro’s mom asked kindly, and fuck. Paulo was so fucking relieved.

“Since Christmas. About three months, yeah?” Alvaro turned to Paulo again, probably thinking if Paulo spoke up, it would be less awkward.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “Three months.”

Alvaro’s mom smiled. “Okay,” she said softly, gaze slowly flitting from Alvaro to Paulo, then back to Alvaro. She looked just a little upset, but. But more shocked.

Alvaro’s dad, on the other hand – looked absolutely _furious_. His brow had furrowed and he turned to Alvaro’s mom as if to ask her ‘ _why the fuck are you letting this happen?_ ’ but never actually opening his mouth to say the words. He stared at her for a few moments and, when she didn’t say another word, turned back to Paulo and Alvaro.

Alvaro opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t manage to before his father said, “This will not continue.”

And then he stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving the four of them sitting there in stunned silence.

Paulo was suddenly hit by the fact that. That he sounded exactly like _Paulo’s dad_. Paulo could practically imagine his own dad saying that. Glaring at Paulo like that. Storming out of the room like that. Paulo instinctively grabbed Alvaro’s hand more tightly, his heart giving a relieved little skip when Alvaro gave it a squeeze.

Alvaro’s mom watched as Alvaro’s dad hurried up the stairs. She got up from her seat, but instead of following him, went over to where Alvaro was and placed her hand hesitantly on Alvaro’s head.

“Give him some time,” she said softly. “Give us. Give us some time. But especially him.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, his face turned downwards.

“You…are really sure about this?”

“I am,” Alvaro said. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay,” she said softly. She glanced at Paulo, affording him a tiny smile. “Paulo’s a good boy.”

Alvaro nodded. She bent over and gently kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair, and then took a step towards Paulo, who shrunk backwards intuitively until he figured out that the hand she was raising was only going to land gently on his head like it had landed on Alvaro’s. Her lips followed soon after.

There was a slightly wistful look in her eyes as she said, “You’ve been my son since the first day I met you.”

She gave Paulo’s hair a ruffle, too, before following Alvaro’s dad up the stairs. Marta got up and squeezed into the tiny space next to Paulo, wrapping her arm around Paulo’s shoulder and giving Alvaro’s arm a soft punch.

“Love you two,” she said softly. “You were very brave.”

Paulo smiled at her, but all Alvaro did was hang his head even lower. Paulo saw tears slipping out the sides of Alvaro’s eyes, and he knew Alvaro didn’t like anyone seeing him cry, so he grabbed Alvaro’s head and held it close to his chest, gently using his thumbs to wipe Alvaro’s cheeks.

“I love you,” he whispered, lowering his lips to Alvaro’s hair. Alvaro gave a little whimper as he pushed his face into the front of Paulo’s t-shirt. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro sobbed.

“No, hey,” Paulo gently squeezed Alvaro’s cheeks. “C’mon. Let’s go lie down, yeah?”

Alvaro stood up quietly, letting Paulo take his hand as they walked up the stairs. The hushed sounds of Alvaro’s parents arguing became more apparent as they reached the staircase landing. Alvaro stopped walking halfway to the top, tugging on Paulo’s hand so Paulo wouldn’t go off without him. Marta stopped next to them.

_“How could you let this happen?”_

_“He’s trying to figure it out. Let him figure it out.”_

_“He’s going to ruin his entire life!”_

_“Please lower your voice, they’re going to hear you.”_

_“Well, they should know that this is wrong and I don’t approve of it!”_

_“He’s grown up now. Why won’t you just let him be himself?”_

_“I can’t let him be himself if – if he’s – if he’s fucking gay!”_

Alvaro suddenly let go of Paulo’s hand and charged up the remainder of the stairs. Paulo started going after him, but reacted too late and Alvaro had already rounded the corner and barged into his parents’ room.

Paulo gave a loud gasp. Marta took the few steps separating them and held on tightly to his hand as they stood timidly around the corner, waiting for everything to crash down around them. Waiting for Alvaro – for reckless, impulsive Alvaro – to fucking explode.

“I’m not gay, dad,” Alvaro said loudly, his voice still thick from his tears. “I’m bisexual. It’s…it’s not so easy. It’s not just fucking black and white, okay? It’s not, and I know you don’t understand why or how I could be like this but trust me, dad, _trust me_ when I say I didn’t understand, either, until recently. I know you might think there’s something wrong with me. That this isn’t…isn’t natural. But if there is one thing I’ve figured out, it’s that this…this is who I am. It’s that I am entitled to be who I want to be and _this is who I am_. And it’s not going to ruin my life – fuck, even if it does. I’ll let it. Because this is part of my life now. This is my life and I’m so tired, I’m so tired of being scared. I’m so tired of hiding. I’m so tired of pushing it all aside because I could have figured this out way earlier, I could have figured out that it was okay for me to love Paulo, it was okay for me to take this step and try to figure myself out. I’m an adult now, okay, dad? This doesn’t totally mean that I can do what I want, but. But it does mean that I don’t have to do everything you tell me to. I’ll listen to what you have to say, but it doesn’t mean I have to do it.”

“Alvaro,” Alvaro’s mom said in a warning tone, and Paulo imagined that Alvaro’s dad must have been fucking enraged by then, and Paulo. Paulo was fucking shaking. His hands were shaking and Marta had tightened her grip but to no avail.

“You know what this will do to your career,” Alvaro’s dad said. He sounded strangely calm. The sort of calm that came right before a storm.

“I _know_ , dad, but what am I supposed to do? Sit here and…and reject who I really am because of football? I can’t pretend to be someone else for football, dad. I love football, but I love. I love Paulo so much more.”

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe my son is gay. This is like. It’s like a disease. I should bring you to the doctor, maybe he can tell us what’s wrong with you.”

“I’m not fucking gay, dad!” Alvaro yelled. “We came to Madrid to tell you out of respect. We didn’t come here to have you yell homophobic shit at us. The least I thought I could expect…the least. It was that maybe you could give my sexuality just the _tiniest_ bit of respect, as well.”

“This is not what I expected from you, Alvaro. All those years of training, all those years of playing football and preparing you to be a man – they’ve all gone down the drain.”

“Fuck,” Alvaro muttered. “This doesn’t make me any less of a man!”

“I just want the best for you, Alvaro. You know that. It’s all your mom and I have wanted for you.”

“Why don’t you understand?” Alvaro sobbed. “Why don’t you understand that I want this? I _need_ this?”

“It’s just,” Alvaro’s dad stammered, like he was giving way, like Alvaro’s tears were a shot to his heart. “It’s not…it doesn’t seem normal. Especially as a footballer.”

“You don’t think this is normal?”

“I don’t know anything about it, Alvaro. I don’t even know you anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s abnormal,” Alvaro said softly, his voice hitching. “Just because you don’t know about something and how it’s going to affect you, doesn’t mean it’s abnormal, dad. And you still know me. I’m still your son, just. Just. When you first saw me in the hospital, right after I was born, when you carried me for the first time. You didn’t know anything about me, either. You didn’t know anything about taking care of a son yourself. But you loved me nonetheless.”

Alvaro’s dad cleared his throat. “I did.”

“So why can’t you love me now?”

Another silence fell upon them. Paulo could feel it from where he and Marta were standing, like it was a series of ice crystals growing and expanding down the corridor. Paulo wasn’t only shaking by then, he was also fucking crying his eyes out and Marta was just standing next to him with no clue how to help him and Paulo just. Paulo loved Alvaro so much and he didn’t know what to do. All he could think of was. Was Alvaro saying, _‘if he loves me, then he’ll understand.’_ But now. Now Alvaro’s dad _didn’t understand._ It tore Paulo apart to think that Alvaro thought his dad _didn’t love him_.

Paulo wiped his tears in time to see Alvaro storm out of the room and past them. Furious tears were running down his cheeks and his gaze was fixed steadily on the ground. He walked straight into his room and shut the door without looking back.

Paulo moved to follow him, but Marta grabbed his arm. “Let him be alone,” she whispered. “He needs to cool off.”

So Paulo stood where he was, on the top step of the staircase. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He suddenly felt like he didn’t belong there, in the Moratas’ house. Marta gave him a big hug before retreating into her room, leaving Paulo alone.

Paulo went over to Alvaro’s door and sat down on the floor. There wasn’t any sound coming from the room so Paulo just sat and waited and soon it was dark because everyone was stewing in their rooms and no one bothered to turn on the lights. Paulo just sat there in almost pitch-darkness until Alvaro’s dad came outside to get some water.

He didn’t stop as he caught sight of Paulo just sitting there on the hard ground, and Paulo couldn’t resist but peer up at him. In the sliver of light from the open bedroom door Paulo saw Alvaro’s dad giving him this look of pity, confusion, and mild anger all at once. Paulo snapped his gaze back down when they made eye contact.

Alvaro’s dad stopped at the stairs to turn on the lights for Paulo.

Paulo burst into tears, slapping a hand over his mouth to quieten himself. Paulo wished things could be okay with Alvaro’s dad. He wished Alvaro knew how much his dad loved him, that Alvaro knew his dad was only this upset because he cared. He wished Alvaro knew that his dad probably needed some time, because he belonged to a generation to which sexuality was still a taboo subject. He wished he could tell Alvaro that they couldn’t tell right now whether Alvaro’s dad had accepted them. They could only tell after Alvaro’s dad had some time to get to know this concept. Everything that Alvaro’s dad said right then was blighted by shock.

He scrambled to his feet when he heard Alvaro’s dad coming back up the stairs. Paulo didn’t want him to see Paulo sitting there bawling his eyes out. He didn’t want to show him any sign of weakness because despite everything Paulo thought about this whole situation himself – he knew that was what Alvaro would have wanted him to do.

Paulo escaped into his old room just in time. He shut the door and flopped over on his bed, starting to cry again. He cried until his tears glued his eyes shut, and he had no other choice but to drift off to sleep because he was so exhausted.

\------

Paulo woke up to some soft distant murmuring.

He rolled groggily around, momentarily surprised as to why Alvaro wasn’t beside him before his mind cleared a little and he remembered that Alvaro was in the next room.

The clock read a little past midnight, meaning Paulo had slept for about three hours. He struggled to get out of bed and out of the bedroom door because he wanted to get to Alvaro. He wanted to lie in Alvaro’s arms and listen to Alvaro rant. He wanted to kiss the tears off Alvaro’s cheeks. He didn’t want Alvaro to think that Paulo had forgotten about him.

Paulo knocked on Alvaro’s door. “Alvi, can I come in?” he asked. The mumbling was louder from where he stood.

There was no reply from Alvaro, so after a few seconds of hovering around Paulo pushed the door open, grateful that it was unlocked.

He saw Alvaro lying face down on the bed, a pillow over his head and pressed over his ears. His body was shaking as he sobbed loudly. And as Paulo stepped into the room he figured out why.

The mumbling he’d heard turned out to be Alvaro’s parents arguing.

Alvaro’s room shared a wall with his parents’, and the sound of their argument was so much clearer. Paulo could almost hear every single word.

_“We should have opted him out of the training camp. He would never have met that kid.”_

_“You think Paulo made him gay?”_

_“Who else could it have been?”_

_“You’re being ridiculous!”_

_“All these years he’s been cosying up to Alvaro. Trying to change what he thinks. What good does he get out of this? He’s going to ruin his career, too!”_

_“That’s exactly my point, Alfonso, Paulo would never do such a thing intentionally.”_

_“To think we let him stay here for an entire month. That we let him sleep in one of our beds every time he comes over. While he’s going around behind our backs and corrupting our son!”_

_“He’s not doing that. Why can’t you just accept that Alvaro is grown up and he has to figure out what he wants by himself? He’s his own person and no one, not even Paulo, his best friend, can tell him what to think!”_

_“Alvaro would never have turned out like this by himself.”_

_“So what the hell do you want now? Our son is twenty-three, for fuck’s sake!”_

_“I’m going to get a restraining order on that kid.”_

_“They play for the same team!”_

_“Alvaro is coming back to Madrid.”_

_“Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re being completely ludicrous! You’re not even making any sense! You can’t halt your son’s whole career just because he told you he’s finally figured himself out!”_

_“I can, too, and I’m going to do it.”_

_“Would you rather have them not tell us? They care about what we think. They care enough to tell us instead of keeping it from us forever. You’re not giving them the same amount of respect they’ve been so kind to give us. I’m sure Alvaro knew that you’d react like this. But he came to tell us, anyway. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”_

And then it all went silent. Paulo felt static fill his ears, like the room was closing in on him. He saw Alvaro turn, mildly surprised when he saw Paulo standing there. He saw Alvaro standing up and storming to the door, and he reached out just in time to grab his arm and stop him.

“Where are you going?” Paulo asked.

“I’m not going to let him say these things about you,” Alvaro said through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Alvaro sobbed. “He can come after me all he fucking wants, but he can’t say all these things about you!”

“Alvaro, it’s okay. Really. Don’t make things worse.”

Alvaro burst into tears again when Paulo led him back to the bed and sat him down. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his crying making his words even more slurred than usual. “I let you down again. Paulo, I’m so sorry.”

“No, hey,” Paulo held Alvaro’s head close to his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry. I knew he’d react like this but I still brought you over here to witness it.”

“I’d rather be over here than in Turin worrying about you. Okay?”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered. “Paulo, what are we going to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro began sobbing again. “I don’t know, Paulo.”

“Okay, okay,” Paulo pressed his lips against the top of Alvaro’s head. He felt, again, like he didn’t belong there. He felt like no matter what he did, he couldn’t make Alvaro feel any better. “Do you want me to, um. Should I…should I leave?”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Hell no,” Paulo shimmied closer to Alvaro and wrapped his legs around Alvaro’s waist. “I want to stay with you forever.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled, and fuck, it made Paulo’s heart fly up into the sky.

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled back, because he just couldn’t help it. “Alvaro.”

“What?”

“Do you think…what he said is true? That I’ve been…trying to change what you think. That I’m corrupting you. That I, you know, made you do this with me.”

Alvaro turned to Paulo and. And there was this look of absolute _rage_ in his eyes. And what was worse, Paulo wasn’t sure at whom it was directed.

“No, Paulo, for fuck’s sake, for the _millionth time_ , no!”

“Okay, okay,” Paulo whispered, frightened.

“Don’t fucking let him get into your head, okay? This is exactly what he wants. He wants you to back out so he can get his perfect, heterosexual, footballer son. And he can fuck off because I’m not going to be that person.”

“Alvaro, he’s your dad.”

“I know, Paulo, and. And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t listen to him. You don’t know how it’s like, Paulo. Maybe you and your dad were different, maybe you’ve forgotten how it was because after all, he’s been dead since you were fifteen, but this is me and my dad, okay? It’s different from you and your dad. You don’t understand.”

Paulo unwrapped himself from around Alvaro and shifted away from him. He knew Alvaro probably hadn’t meant to, but. But his words hurt Paulo. The fact that Alvaro thought Paulo would have forgotten about his dad just because he was dead. That he thought that he could disrespect his dad just because his dad made him mad. Paulo wished he _had_ a dad to be mad at. He was sure that his dad, if he were alive to hear this, would be no different from Alvaro’s dad.

Paulo suddenly wished he had a dad to come out to. It didn’t matter how angry Paulo knew it would make him. Paulo wanted his dad to know. Paulo wanted his dad to know that he was happy, that he knew who he was now. He wanted to talk to his dad. He envied Alvaro for being able to do that, but he couldn’t take Alvaro treating his dad like that, trying to downplay their father-son relationship without seeing things from his dad’s perspective.

“He’s my dad, too,” Paulo said softly. He moved to wipe the tears that had suddenly escaped down his cheeks.

There was a long pause from Alvaro as he realised how he’d come across to Paulo.

“No, Pau,” Alvaro said, frantically moving to hug Paulo and looking like a devastated puppy when Paulo pushed him away. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to say that you wouldn’t understand. I know how much you love your dad and think about him. I’m sorry, Paulo, I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was. Was that my dad had this perfect plan for me, my life all mapped out for me, and this wasn’t part of it, and that’s why he’s so mad, and you shouldn’t let it affect you, okay? It’s between me and him and he only dragged you into it to make me mad. It’s not your fault. Okay?”

“My dad had a perfect plan for me, too,” Paulo whispered. “My life was in pieces after he left. My life is still in pieces. I just. I want you to know that. That your dad cares. That’s why he reacted in such a huge way. It’s because he cares about you. If he didn’t care, then he wouldn’t be like this.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly.

“And I can’t not let it affect me, Alvaro, because your dad has been like a dad to me, too. And I know my dad would have reacted like your dad did, but. But to see it happen. It’s so real now, it’s so much more real and I can’t have your dad hate me, Alvaro, because it feels like _my dad_ hates me.”

“Okay,” Alvaro sobbed. “Okay. I’m sorry we had to do this. That I wanted to go public.”

“It’s okay, I know you only wanted the best for us.”

The both of them sat there in complete silence for the next few minutes, just thinking of what to do. What to _say_. Because it didn’t seem like there was anything they could do or say that wouldn’t hurt anyone in the house.

“So,” Paulo finally said, clearing his throat. “So we…do we break up, or what?”

“What?” Alvaro asked frantically, his brown eyes going fucking crazy. He grabbed Paulo and hugged Paulo so tightly all the air got squeezed out of his lungs. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Paulo, shit, I’m so sorry, Paulo, please don’t leave me.”

And Paulo. Paulo didn’t _want to_ , but if he had to in order to free Alvaro, in order for Alvaro to be happy and okay with his dad, then Paulo _would_.

“What do we do now, then?”

“You want to break up with me?”

“I don’t want to, Alvi, just. If you want to break up with me. I get it.”

“I don’t,” Alvaro sobbed. “Paulo, I’m so sorry for saying all that crap, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Paulo whispered. “I’m not mad.”

Alvaro cried into Paulo’s shoulder for a minute, just. Just radiating relief that _Paulo still wanted him_. And Paulo felt this strange mixture of feelings, like shock and confusion and anger and love all rolled into one. A feeling that ate him out from his chest.

Then Alvaro said, softly into the crook of Paulo’s neck, “Let’s get out of here.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t stay in this house tonight.”

“A hotel?” Paulo asked. Alvaro had stopped renting his old apartment and it was with another tenant. “You know any good hotels here?”

Alvaro nodded. He grabbed a set of clothes from his wardrobe and stuffed it into Paulo’s bag when he fetched it from his room. They met Marta in the hallway when they were leaving, and she had this petrified look on her face before it slowly turned to relief when she saw them holding hands.

“Where are you going?” she asked. “Do you need anything?”

“We’re going to find a place to sleep,” Alvaro said.

“You need a ride? You can take my car.”

“We’ll walk. Thanks.”

Marta watched as they both put on their jackets slowly. She gave them both a huge hug when they were done. “Take care of yourselves, yeah?” she whispered, pulling both Alvaro’s hood over his head and Paulo’s over his beanie. “Call me if you need anything.”

Paulo had to let go of Alvaro’s hand to get through the front door. He didn’t grab it again as they began to walk down the street, instead using his hand to hoist his duffel strap higher up his shoulder before stuffing both his hands in his pockets.

Alvaro didn’t react much, just aimed his gaze at the ground and walked. He took the small alleys and Paulo followed. He felt Alvaro gravitate towards him, their arms occasionally brushing together, like Alvaro really wanted to take Paulo’s hand but wasn’t sure if Paulo would let him. Like Alvaro had chosen to walk down these dark alleys precisely because he wanted to hold Paulo’s hand.

But Paulo couldn’t. Paulo couldn’t risk it again.

They walked in complete silence all the way to whatever hotel Alvaro had in mind. It wasn’t even their usual comfortable silence. It felt like they were having a fight even though it was ironically pretty clear that they _weren’t_. Like there was a gulf between them that neither of them dared to breach.

Alvaro brought Paulo to like, the most posh hotel in the entire city of Madrid, Paulo bet. It towered over them as they stood at its entrance, wondering who should step in first. Then Alvaro turned to Paulo, gently tugging on the hood of Paulo’s jacket before kissing Paulo on the top of his head, through his hood and beanie.

“I’m going to get us the best fucking room they have,” he whispered. “Wait for me at the lifts.”

He took the duffel bag from Paulo and headed inside. Paulo waited a couple of minutes before he stepped in himself, nodding with his head down as he was greeted by the guard. He waited at the lifts for ten minutes before Alvaro reappeared.

Alvaro pressed the button for one of the highest floors. He didn’t say a word, and neither did Paulo. At that point it felt like neither of them even knew what to say anymore. Paulo just. Paulo wanted so desperately for this not to be real. Sure, they were in a fucking seven-star hotel or whatever, but. Paulo wanted everything else to not be real.

The room had a window that took up a third of the wall. It overlooked the city with its shimmering lights, gradually fading away into darkness in the outskirts. Paulo walked right to it, hearing Alvaro shut the door and dump the bag on the ground before following him. Madrid was a beautiful place. It was a shame that Paulo didn’t feel welcome here.

Alvaro stopped next to him, but instead of looking outside, he was looking at Paulo. He gently took Paulo’s hand and tugged at it until Paulo turned to face him.

He held Paulo by the sides of his head and slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, leaned forward until his lips touched Paulo’s. And despite already having kissed Alvaro a million times, Paulo felt this warmth blow up his entire body, a warmth he knew so well but yet seemed so fresh every time he felt it. A warmth he craved because no matter how well he knew it, he never got enough of it.

Alvaro pulled away after a few moments, pressing his head against Paulo’s, his eyes peering eagerly over like he was asking if Paulo wanted to continue. Paulo responded by closing the gap again and letting his lips crash against Alvaro’s, feeling Alvaro respond fervently. His hands moved into Paulo’s hair and, when obstructed by Paulo’s beanie, ripped it off and dumped it on the ground. The kiss was beginning to get desperate and sloppy but Paulo. Paulo didn’t care. It was everything he needed right then. It was everything _Alvaro_ needed right then.

Alvaro slowed things down when he seemed to realise that this was going to be over as quickly as it had started. He pulled away again, forehead still pressed to Paulo’s, nose nuzzling against Paulo’s. His fingers threaded through Paulo’s hair gently, before his hands moved down Paulo’s cheeks again and to his shoulders, slowly sliding his jacket off and slipping under his sweater. His hands were warm through Paulo’s t-shirt, and then against Paulo’s skin when he slid them underneath. Paulo gasped when Alvaro’s kind fingers rippled across his abdomen, a gasp that was greedily gobbled up by Alvaro. His hands moved all the way up Paulo’s ribs before he stopped, softly whispering against Paulo’s lips, “Yeah?”

Paulo nodded. He let Alvaro slide his sweater off, and then it was his turn to help Alvaro with his clothes. They continued like this, slowly, achingly tender, peeling off layer after layer of clothing from each other, fingers brushing so softly against skin they might as well have not, yet the feeling so addictive that it made Paulo crave for more. Alvaro took over when they got into bed, and Paulo let him. It felt so familiar but yet so foreign. Paulo hated and loved it at the same time; it reminded him of the days he was like this, that he did this, using sex to avoid all his problems. It reminded him how much he liked being controlled physically. It reminded him how weak he was and it made him loathe himself because he loved it so much.

It reminded him of how empty his life was before he and Alvaro finally found each other. How he was so directionless, so pathetic, so completely and utterly _hopeless_ without anyone to guide him. And now, now that even his relationship with Alvaro’s dad had essentially fallen apart – Paulo felt like he was being swallowed into that hole again. A hole with all the voices of the past, cheering him on, egging him on, as he fell into their embrace. Paulo had always felt welcome in this world of his. It frightened him sometimes.

\------

Alvaro opened his eyes to see Paulo lying chest down, cheek rested on the pillow so he could watch Alvaro sleep. Paulo’s eyes were red and tired but he seemed bent on keeping them open. He smiled a tiny sad smile when Alvaro told him to go to sleep.

Alvaro fell asleep again and the next time he woke up, Paulo wasn’t in bed.

He was standing by the huge window, a towel wrapped around his waist, watching daylight slowly but surely enveloping the city.

Alvaro wrapped the sheets around his shoulders and padded his way over, standing next to Paulo and looking out the window. The faint purple light swallowing the buildings below them was mesmerising.

When Alvaro turned to Paulo to tell him that, he saw tears streaming down Paulo’s face.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, his heart falling to the ground. He wrapped his fingers around Paulo’s elbow. “Hey.”

“This how we solve all our problems now?” Paulo asked without turning. “Sex?”

“No,” Alvaro said. It hadn’t solved _anything_. It just. It provided a means of escape, no matter how temporary. “Hey. Paulo.”

Paulo went silent for a few seconds, then shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “No. No. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Paulo, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Paulo whispered. “I know. You’re not like me. You’re strong and you know what to do and I. And I. I just don’t know. I never know.”

“Paulo, don’t say that. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Alvaro, I just – I don’t know. I – I don’t know.”

“What?” Alvaro wrapped Paulo under the sheets he was holding, enveloping him in a warm hug and wishing with all his might that Paulo would stop shaking like he was having a fucking panic attack. “What do you not know?”

“Who I am.”

“You do, Paulo,” Alvaro’s lips formed the words on Paulo’s temple. “You know who you are.”

“Do I?” Paulo sobbed. “I feel like. Like I’m back where I started. I’m just drifting, Alvaro. I’m drifting and I don’t know what I’m doing and I hate myself.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sighed. He pressed Paulo’s head more tightly against his chest. The venom with which he’d said that was eating Alvaro alive. “I’m just going to speak my mind, okay? And when I’m done, you can yell at me if you want to. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“My dad isn’t your dad,” Alvaro started cautiously. “I know they appear similar. They both wanted the best for us and they seem so controlling because of it. They had this image in their minds, this image of their sons and what they wanted their sons to be, and they would have done anything to get it. To them, we were their biggest hope. And for my dad, to learn that his biggest hope was going to be shattered – it hurt. It gives him no excuse for saying all the mean things he said, but I know he’s hurt. And I can only hope that one day he will stop hurting, but for now, if I had to choose between you and him, I choose you. Because I know this is going to work out. I know we’re surrounded by supportive people and we’re going to be alright, our football is going to be alright. But my dad can’t see that. One day, maybe, we’ll show him he was wrong.

“But the difference now is. Is that your dad isn’t here, Paulo. Your dad can’t tell you what to do, he can’t tell you what to think. I don’t mean that in the ‘I’m glad he’s dead’ way. I mean that in a…in a ‘Paulo, you’re so fucking mature’ way. Because you are. You have been since I met you. You feel so lost, so hopeless, because…because of exactly how your dad was. He was just as controlling as mine and again, I’m not saying this in a bad way. He was a good guide for you. For your life. He was constantly teaching you what to do with your life. And I think…I think that’s why you always feel so lost. Because you’re always, always searching for someone to replace him. And you found my dad, and shit, Paulo, they’re so fucking similar but. But my dad will _never_ be your dad. No matter how high a pedestal you put him on, he will never be your dad.

“I guess, Paulo, what I want to say is. Is that you have to be your own person. You can’t constantly be searching for someone to look up to, someone to be your dad again. Because you’ll never find someone like your dad. You’ll never find someone who is to you like your dad was. You can’t keep living your life for him, Paulo. You’ve already done what he wanted. You became a world-class footballer. I’m sure he’s very, very, very proud of you. But you’ve got to start living your own life. You can’t keep being afraid of what he’ll think of you and letting it stop you. My father rejecting me doesn’t equate to _your_ father rejecting _you_. It doesn’t work that way. I know it feels that way, but. Paulo, you’ve come so, so fucking far. You can’t give up now, not right now when you have so much to fight for, when you’ve got it all figured out and the only thing stopping you is what your dad might think about you – which isn’t even accurate, by the way, if you’re using my dad as a gauge. Shit, Pau, wanna bet, your dad’s currently watching us from heaven and laughing at how dumb we are.”

And then Alvaro held his breath and braced himself for the torrent of crying and yelling and hitting that he expected Paulo to unleash at him, but. But all Paulo did was slide his arms around Alvaro’s waist and hugged Alvaro so tightly Alvaro’s waist shrunk three inches and he couldn’t breathe.

“You okay with that?” Alvaro whispered once he was over the initial shock of Paulo’s calm reaction.

Paulo nodded.

“And you’re not lost, okay, Paulo? You just. You’ve only been seeing one way of doing it, and that’s to do it for your dad. But there are a million other ways to look at it, Paulo. Why not do it for yourself? By doing it for yourself…you’re doing it for your dad, too, in a way. You don’t have to keep struggling with your identity like you’ve been for so long just because you aren’t sure your dad would accept it. This is what’s making you so…so directionless. Why not embrace it? Embrace it and one day, no matter now or in the future, your dad will, too. Because all he’d ever wanted was to discover your true potential. This is part of it, too. And when we’re in heaven and we meet your dad, you’ll introduce me to him. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo sobbed, his voice so thick it only came out as a mumble. “Okay.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No.”

“All I’m saying is,” Alvaro cleared his throat. “I made this mistake. The same one as you. I worried too much about what my family would think of me. I tried to be perfect for their sakes. But I can’t be. I’m myself and I have to figure it out. It just. It hurts so much more because they’re here for all the collateral damage. I mean – I’m not saying it’s good that your dad’s dead, but –“

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “I get it. I get it. It’s not good, but…but it’s also good.”

“It’s a pretty sensitive topic, isn’t it?”

Paulo nodded.

“Paulo, you’re going to be fine, okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo tilted his head up and smiled at Alvaro, and. And Alvaro’s entire world burst into colour once again. “You too, okay? Embrace it and one day, no matter now or in the future, your dad will, too.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro chuckled. He ran his thumb along Paulo’s hairline and his jaw. “That’s my line. I’m going to copyright it so you can’t use it on me.”

“Alvaro. You know that…that no matter how lost I feel, how much I don’t know myself. That I’ll always love you, yeah? I always have and what I feel about my life doesn’t change that. Yeah?”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered, sadly. “You’ve been trying to run away from it for so many years and I just kept letting you. And I’m not going to let you anymore.”

Paulo smiled. “Okay,” he mouthed.

They crawled back into bed together, both wrapped under the sheets like a double-stuffed burrito. The sun had risen and was now shining warmly on Paulo’s side of the bed, but neither of them got up to shut the drapes because firstly, Paulo looked really warm and comfortable. And secondly, the light brought out Paulo’s eyes and the ever so slight contour of his cheekbones, and he was so beautiful and Alvaro didn’t want to change one single bit of that moment.

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered just before they could drift to sleep. “We can’t come out to the world now, can we?”

Paulo gave that a brief thought. “Why don’t we…let this die down? Maybe…maybe see what your dad has to say after he’s calmed down. Because, um. Because you don’t want to do it when you know he doesn’t approve yet, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, relieved that Paulo just. Paulo just _got him._ “Okay. God, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

Paulo smiled and closed his eyes. “Alvi. I’m sorry. I’m sorry we fought.”

“We didn’t fight.”

“It felt like a fight.”

“It wasn’t. I’m not mad. Are you mad?”

“I’m not.”

“Then how could it be a fight?”

“I don’t know, you’re the smart one.”

And Alvaro was just so fucking _fond_ because _Paulo_ was the smart one in their relationship but would never admit it, and he treated Alvaro so well and he always listened to what Alvaro had to say and. And Alvaro loved him with all his heart.

“Paulo,” Alvaro smoothened Paulo’s hair back on his head and moved a little closer so he got a little of the sunlight. “Hey. We okay?”

There was complete silence from Paulo. Alvaro thought Paulo had fallen asleep, and he thought, well. That was good, too, because Paulo looked fucking exhausted and Alvaro wouldn’t mind paying the late checkout fee if Paulo could have some rest. He smiled and leaned over to kiss the furrow between Paulo’s brows. If Paulo continued doing that all the time he was going to get wrinkles and all the girls and guys were going to flock to Alvaro but Alvaro would reject all of them for his old and grey and wrinkled Paulo.

And then Paulo turned his body so he was chest-down on the bed again, his shoulder tucked under Alvaro’s chin. The sheets were wrapped so tightly around them both and Alvaro felt like he was inside a literal, physical cocoon of Paulo’s love.

“I don’t know,” Paulo finally whispered. “But I know we will be.”


	39. I'm Getting Tired And I Need Somewhere To Begin/This Could Be The End Of Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :)  
> Wishing all of you a happy new year! I am so thankful for all of you and all your support this year, and I'm glad I got to chat with some of you, I hope to get to know more of you too :) You can find me on [tumblr](https://incredybala.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/debushy)! Don't forget to check out the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/3VhjeM5HLitEyiMD7xCs1I), too :)  
> This is the final chapter of 2016, and I hope you guys will enjoy it. Again, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! Sorry this chapter is a little late 'cause I was rushing it oops.
> 
> Title is from Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

Tone it down. Tone it down.

That was Paulo and Alvaro’s motto for the next few weeks. It was made easier that Paulo was still recuperating and only just restarting training, and Alvaro couldn’t accidentally do something stupid while he was being substituted in, like kiss Paulo’s face or something. And of course, it meant that Alvaro had more playing time which, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Paulo was so happy about.

Alvaro didn’t talk to his parents for the week and a half following his return to Turin. His mom had called once, but only to make sure he and Paulo had landed safely. She didn’t mention Alvaro’s dad. Alvaro didn’t dare to ask. A conversation with many awkward pauses had ensued.

Paulo and Alvaro had just finished watching the Serie A matchday 32 highlights reel when Marta’s text came. Alvaro sat up to read the text as Paulo flipped lazily through the channels before eventually settling on some Spanish documentary about birds.

 _Dad’s asking about you,_ the text said.

_What did he say?_

_He asked if anyone had heard from you. Mom said you had a short talk about a week ago. He said oh. Doesn’t look angry._

_That’s scary. If he doesn’t look angry._

And then a sudden random text from Paulo popped up. _Who you textin? Looks serious._

Alvaro turned to see Paulo giving him a small smile, curious yet understanding, his phone in his hands. He put it down and wiggled his way back into Alvaro’s arms. “What’s up? Your dad?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Alvaro said. He passed his phone to Paulo so Paulo could read the messages.

There was the longest pause as Paulo read every message. Twice. Then he said, “Maybe he’s not mad at you. He’s mad at me. ‘Cause he thinks that if I’m gone, you’ll be normal again.”

“Fuck that. That’s not true.”

“You said so yourself. You’ve never liked a guy before, just me.”

“It’s not like that, Paulo. If you weren’t here…maybe I’d just have taken much, much longer than I already have. To figure this out.”

Paulo went quiet again for a few moments, then, “Could you ask if he asked about me?”

So Alvaro did. And Marta replied, _No, and he stiffens every time Paulo’s name is mentioned on TV._

Paulo sighed. “See?”

“He just needs some time.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo said softly.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, distracted by his phone. It took him a while to realise that Paulo hadn’t replied, and was just sitting there with his hands clasped nervously in his lap. “Pau. What is it?”

“You’re…you’re still figuring things out, yeah? With…with this whole bi thing?”

“Yeah.”

“So does this mean…does this mean that this thing between us, it’ll end? Because you’re just, I don’t know, testing the waters? I’m just…just an experiment?”

“No, hey,” Alvaro quickly dumped his phone and grabbed Paulo by the shoulders. “No. Why would you say that?”

“Because, I don’t know. Maybe when you’ve figured things out, you’ll realise that I’m not the one. Or maybe you’ll change your mind and you’re not bi. I don’t know. But you’re figuring it out, and that means…that means that this isn’t permanent? That you just. You just want to try this out to see how it goes? I mean, you said in that press conference –”

“No,” Alvaro whispered. Sure, he’d said in that press conference with Spain that he wanted the whole Real Madrid-Juventus transfer situation to be settled quickly, but. “Paulo. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?”

“No,” Alvaro said again. He realised how many times he’d said, for Paulo to hear, that he was ‘figuring it out.’ And all those times had just built up, it had all built up Paulo’s doubt that this was going to last because he thought that Alvaro was going to leave once he was done experimenting, like Alvaro was just using Paulo. Like Paulo was a car he could test drive. A paint sample. A pair of new football boots Adidas had sent him for trying on. “No, Pau, I just. I meant that I’m figuring out who I am as a person. I’ve loved you since…since the first month I met you. It’s just, all these years I’ve been trying to run from it, so much that I’ve become this…this person that I’m not even sure is who I am. So when I say I’m trying to figure it out, it’s that I’m figuring out _who I am as a person_ , okay? It’s nothing to do with this relationship. I just need to know if the person I’ve been all this while is really who I am. If hiding the fact that I’m bi had changed who I was supposed to be. My mindset, my thoughts, my everything. How I view the world and stuff. And if you weren’t here, if I didn’t like a boy as much as I like you, then. Then I may have just continued being that shell of who the real Alvaro is supposed to be. This has nothing to do with the fact that I love you, I have been for the longest time, and I will for the longest time. Okay? I’m not going to bolt.”

“Yeah?” Paulo sobbed. “Yeah?”

“Paulo. I’m so sorry.”

“No, yeah, okay.”

“I’m sorry. Paulo. You know, I’m always thinking of…thinking that I’ll marry you one day, you know?”

And that. That only made Paulo start crying even harder, and shit, Alvaro was so confused. Paulo clung on to the front of Alvaro’s shirt and started sobbing into it, mumbling softly to himself. Alvaro put his ear closer and made out the words, “But we’ve only been together a few months.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “But it feels like forever, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s going to be forever. We’re going to get married one day and we’ll get a huge dog and play with it all day after we retire. It doesn’t matter how old we are when we’re finally able to get it done. We still will, even if we’re so old we can’t recognise each other. Doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

“Yeah?” Paulo chuckled. “Alvi, it’s too early to say.”

Alvaro smiled. He knew Paulo wasn’t saying that they were eventually going to break up. Paulo was just saying that they could never guarantee their relationship and career would flourish at the same time and. Paulo was just. Just so rational and sensible and he complemented Alvaro in every way possible and Alvaro loved him to little tiny bits.

“Don’t you want to?” Alvaro asked, his hands combing soothingly through Paulo’s hair.

“I do,” Paulo smiled, but a couple of teardrops still escaped from the corners of his eyes.

“Then we will. And you’ll tell me if you change your mind.”

“What if I want a cat instead?”

“We’ll get one each. A dog and a cat.”

“And a fish?”

“As many fishes as you want.”

“And a bird.”

“We could just go live in the zoo and it’ll solve all these problems.”

“We can live with the zebras. We’ll blend right in.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro burst into laughter. “Yeah, we totally would.”

They spent the rest of the day talking about their future and the smile stayed on Paulo’s face throughout. Alvaro knew avoiding the problem was never a good solution but all he’d ever wanted to do was to make Paulo smile, and he would do anything he could do make sure that happened, even if it meant he had to hug Paulo 24/7 and make him think about good things. Even if it meant he had to be by Paulo’s side every second of every day. Because Alvaro couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather do that with.

\------

Alvaro’s family came to Turin for a week when Juve had back-to-back home games against Palermo and Lazio.

Paulo tried his best to stay away from them – though discreetly, because he didn’t want to have a whole argument with Alvaro about it. Alvaro and his dad were still not on speaking terms, but he came all the way to Turin to watch Alvaro’s matches, so Paulo thought that probably meant something.

 _Come over and see my family_ , Alvaro texted Paulo while he hid in his own apartment after training.

 _Is your dad talking to you?_ Paulo replied.

_No, but mom is._

_It’s okay, I’ll stay home._

_Come over. Sit with me. I love you._

Paulo sighed. What could he ever do with Alvaro? He dragged on a jumper and strolled down the street to Alvaro’s apartment, walking as slowly as he could, trying to brace himself.

The air became noticeably chillier once Paulo entered the room. The conversation halted abruptly, and the only person who gave any outward response to Paulo’s sudden appearance was Alvaro. He got up from his seat and went over to Paulo, smooching him loudly on the lips before taking his hand and bringing him to the 1.5 seater armchair. Alvaro’s dad stiffened in his seat, his gaze fixed strictly on a spot on the coffee table.

Paulo sat down hesitantly in whatever remaining space was left on the armchair, one of his thighs slightly overlapping Alvaro’s. Alvaro’s dad cleared his throat before leaning slowly forward and grabbing his glass of water, sipping slowly at it so he didn’t have to make unnecessary eye contact with anyone.

“I’ll get myself a drink,” Paulo said softly, so softly he was simultaneously afraid that no one had heard him yet relieved because his voice was fucking shaking and if he’d spoken any louder it’d have been audible. He quickly stood up and hurried to the kitchen.

Paulo stood at the sink, letting the water overflow the glass as he caught his breath. He wasn’t even sure why he was so fucking out of breath. His heart was beating out of his chest and the sides of his vision were tinted red and. And Paulo felt like he was going to faint. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Someone’s footsteps sounded behind Paulo and he braced himself again only to have Alvaro’s mom appear next to him. “Hi, Paulo,” she said kindly.

“Hi,” Paulo mustered a smile.

“You guys doing okay?” she asked. When Paulo nodded, she continued, “I mean, in your relationship.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “It’s good. Do you, um. Are you…are you mad?”

“I’m not,” she smiled. “It’s good that Alvaro knows what he wants. I don’t know what you heard that night in Madrid, but I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant and I just want you to know that when Alvaro’s dad is angry, he says all these ridiculous things that he doesn’t mean, and you shouldn’t take them to heart, okay?”

“What if he means it this time?” Paulo whispered. “He hasn’t spoken to Alvaro in three weeks.”

“He’s trying to figure it out, too, ironically,” she gave a soft laugh. “Paulo. Sometimes at night before we sleep, he goes on his iPad and he googles things about homosexuality. About gay marriage. About gay rights in Spain, in Italy, and in Argentina. And sometimes I catch him doing it and he gets embarrassed but. But sometimes, he tells me about it. So I get to know, too. He’s learning, Paulo. He seems mad but it’s only because this is all so new to him and he’s afraid Alvaro will get hurt. So just. Just give him some time, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked. He felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. “Really? He does that?”

Alvaro’s mom nodded. “And he likes you, Paulo. You’re a good boy. We’ve known you for so long and there hasn’t been anything that warranted whatever he said about you. He acts like he doesn’t care, but he does. Let Alvaro know, won’t you?”

“Yeah, um,” Paulo said. “We…we actually went to Madrid to come out to you guys because…because we wanted to go public. With our relationship. So we don’t have to hide or sneak around or be scared that people might talk. So, um. I don’t know what you think about this, but after that night in Madrid we put off our plans. So…yeah, I just. Thought maybe you should know about what we plan to do.”

Alvaro’s mom gave that a very long thought. She shuffled her feet around and fidgeted with the glass in her hands. And then she said, “You’re really sure about this?”

“It’s what Alvaro wants. But he wanted his dad to know first. He wanted his dad to be okay with it.”

“I’m not sure what he’ll think about this.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said softly. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Talk to Alvaro, and if you two really want Alvaro’s dad to know, give me a call. Okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Alvaro’s mom gave a soft smile. She reached over and placed her hand on Paulo’s head, gently pressing his hair down. “Paulo,” she said. “I’m really glad Alvaro found a boy as good as you.”

Paulo smiled, turning his head down so she wouldn’t see him cry. “I’m glad I found him,” he whispered.

“Do you two live together?” she asked.

“Most of the time, yeah.”

Alvaro’s mom handed him a tissue and waited for him to wipe his tears. She started walking back outside and Paulo followed. “We’re all going out for dinner tonight, do you want to come with us?”

They stopped behind where Marta, Alvaro, and their dad were sitting. It was awkwardly quiet. Alvaro’s dad turned around and, seemingly ignoring Paulo’s entire existence, asked Alvaro’s mom, “Are we ready to go?”

She nodded, and everyone got up and put on their shoes, but Paulo just. Paulo was afraid. He was afraid he’d ruin everything with Alvaro’s family, everything between him and them and everything between _Alvaro_ and them. Paulo couldn’t take three seconds around Alvaro’s dad without his hands starting to shake. Paulo didn’t feel welcome, even though he knew Alvaro’s dad was learning. And for now, he wasn’t going to try. Not until Alvaro’s dad had calmed down completely.

“Um,” Paulo said when they were going through the front door. “I’ll go home, get some rest. You guys, uh. Have a great time.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. “Hey, c’mon.”

Paulo shook his head and gave Alvaro a tiny smile. “See you later.”

And then Alvaro decided it was a good idea to very extravagantly plant a huge kiss on Paulo’s lips. Alvaro’s dad froze before averting his very intense gaze to the sidewalk. He started walking out the door as Marta and her mom hurried after him.

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered.

“Love you, too,” Paulo smiled. “Bye.”

Paulo walked straight home and climbed into bed. He cried until his lungs were as tired as his heart and he fell asleep. Because no matter how much sense Alvaro had made, there was still a little sliver of Paulo that treated Alvaro’s dad like his own. A little sliver that still felt like this was a straight up rejection from Paulo’s own father. Paulo knew it wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t real. But it didn’t keep him from wishing that it didn’t have to be this way.

\------

Juve beat Palermo by four goals to nothing the very next day.

Neither Paulo nor Alvaro scored, but they found Alvaro’s family waiting outside the locker rooms, anyway. Paulo gave them a smile and a nod before trying to escape into the locker room, but was held back by Marta.

“Stay,” she muttered. “Trust me.”

They stood awkwardly in a small circle for a few moments before – before _Alvaro’s dad_ spoke.

“You two had a great game today,” he said.

The both of them just. Just stared at him, stunned, no idea what to say. Paulo saw this flicker of amusement in his eyes before it was quickly hidden again.

“Thank you,” Alvaro finally said.

“Well,” Alvaro’s dad cleared his throat. “Paulo had a better game than you, ‘cause we flew all the way here to watch you and you get a yellow and miss the next game to repay us.”

Alvaro laughed nervously. He shuffled his feet around and the clacking of his studs against the floor was almost deafening. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said softly. He peered up at Alvaro’s dad but removed his gaze when he saw Alvaro’s dad looking at him.

Alvaro’s dad gave him a hard clap on the back and turned to leave without another word. Paulo felt this mixture of pride and fear and relief and just so much confusion at once. He turned to Alvaro’s mom, who said, “He just needed to see that you two are doing well. With his own eyes.”

And then she flashed them a blinding smile and went after her husband. Marta followed them. Paulo turned to Alvaro, who was already staring at him with this completely perplexed look in his tired brown eyes, and he asked, “Alvi, did that just happen?”

“I think so?”

“What the fuck? What the fuck. What the fuck.”

Alvaro wrapped his arms around Paulo’s waist and lifted him off the ground, swinging him in the air for a few moments as Paulo squealed softly. He didn’t even know if Alvaro’s family was out of earshot yet. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that Alvaro’s dad still spoke differently, more sternly and awkwardly to Alvaro and Paulo than he did before. He didn’t care about anything except that they were _making progress_.

There was a sudden loud whistle from across the hallway, and Alvaro quickly put Paulo down when they both turned and saw that it was Franco.

“Whoa, you need a flashing light that reads ‘PDA alert’ in huge block letters over here,” he said.

Paulo giggled. “Hey, Vazquez.”

“Hey, you two,” Franco grinned, like he was so happy to see Paulo and Alvaro again despite his team’s loss. “How’re you doing?”

“We’re okay, yeah,” Paulo said.

But Franco, like _always_ , seemed to sense that something wasn’t right. That they were okay, sure, but there was just something more to it. “You sure?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Paulo turned to Alvaro only to see Alvaro already looking at him. He had this. This really sad puppy look in his eyes, not frantic like he was begging Paulo not to say anything to Franco, but desperate like he was begging Paulo to _please say something to Franco_ , because after all Franco was one of only two other footballers who knew and understood fully about their entire situation. And it wasn’t like Isco was in Italy for them to seek advice from.

“You up for dinner tonight?” Paulo asked. “My place.”

“Okay,” Franco said. “Me and you? What about this guy?” he reached over and gently punched Alvaro on the shoulder.

“I’m having dinner with my family but I’ll join you after.”

“So you gonna leave me alone with Dybala?” Franco teased. “You’d do that?”

Paulo saw Alvaro hesitate for a moment, because after all, the jealousy Alvaro had held towards Franco was an ingrained habit. But it disintegrated just a mere split second later when Alvaro remembered there was nothing to be jealous about.

“Of course,” he said.

Franco gave a soft chuckle, like he found amusement in making Alvaro flustered. It was just as ingrained a habit as Alvaro’s jealousy, honestly. Paulo still couldn’t believe that the both of them were actually. Actually _getting along._ “’Kay, see you guys later,” Franco said, giving a little wave over his shoulder as he walked back to the away locker room.

Alvaro turned to Paulo. “I can leave you alone with him, right?”

And Paulo just wanted to burst into laughter but he kept it in. He flashed Alvaro a mock offended look. “What do you mean _‘I can leave you alone with him, right?’_ ” he asked accusingly.

“I mean – I mean,” Alvaro sputtered. “I’ve – I’ve never had, I’ve never been friends with, I don’t know, my girlfriend’s – or boyfriend’s – ex-fuck buddy.”

“So you can’t trust me?”

“No,” Alvaro said sadly. “I mean, no, it’s not that. It’s – I don’t know. Paulo,” he reached over and wrapped his hand around Paulo’s wrist. “Paulo. Don’t be mad.”

And then Paulo couldn’t help it. He smiled. “I’m just joking, Alvi.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked, still looking worried. “I trust you, Pau, I just. I haven’t been…in this situation.”

“I know, yeah,” Paulo ran his thumb over Alvaro’s cheek. “I’m just kidding.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You and Franco…are you…”

“We’re friends. My second best friend.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Who’s your best friend?”

Paulo shrugged. “Myself.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro gave him a hard shove.

“What, you thought I’d say you?” Paulo giggled.

“Am I not?”

“Alvi, you’re in an entire friend league on your own.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro laughed. And blushed a little. “Ew, you’re gross.”

Paulo shoved him through the entrance of the locker room. Everyone else was already undressed and on their way to the showers. Paulo and Alvaro grabbed their things and tagged along, playfully nudging each other on the way. For no fucking reason.

Alvaro made a joke in the shower about Paulo giving him a blowjob, and Paulo obviously refused, but Alvaro looked slightly turned on so Paulo promised to make it up to him next time.

Alvaro left for dinner with a huge smile on his face and it was the happiest Paulo had been for the last two weeks.

\------

Alvaro spent the entire dinner texting Paulo under the table.

It helped him to pass time; honestly, the dinner wasn’t the warmest they’d had. No one really talked. Alvaro spent most of the time eavesdropping on the conversations the tables around them were having. And texting Paulo. And smiling to himself until Marta kicked him under the table.

“So,” Marta said as they finished their dessert, trying to start a new conversation after the previous ones had just stopped abruptly. “Alvaro had a good game today, yeah? Paulo, too.”

Alvaro’s dad nodded discreetly at his half-eaten slice of cake. It wasn’t a nod more than it was just a dip of the head. Mom smiled. “Yeah, why didn’t Paulo join us?”

Alvaro’s dad blinked a couple of times, like he wasn’t sure if he’d like to talk about Paulo. But Alvaro went ahead, anyway, because he’d decided that the best way to get his dad to warm up to Paulo was to show him how much Paulo was going to be in their lives. It wasn’t that Alvaro was a rebel, or whatever. It was just the only way he knew how to deal with this.

“He’s at home with one of his Palermo friends,” Alvaro said. “I told them I’ll join them after dinner.”

Everyone went silent, and Alvaro saw Marta gave an inward sigh at how her conversation attempt had so spectacularly failed once again.

But that was only until Alvaro’s dad suddenly put down his fork and said, “We’d better get going, then?” he cleared his throat. “So you won’t be too late to the party.”

And then it was Alvaro’s turn to blink at him, refusing to believe what he’d just heard. He turned to his mom and Marta to ask if it was real, only to see the answer reflected in their huge smiles and nods.

“Um,” Alvaro said hesitantly. “Yeah.”

Alvaro drove them back to the hotel after paying for dinner, and the silence this time around was more comforting than tense. Or maybe it was just Alvaro being too fucking buzzed up, but. It just felt _different_. Like Alvaro’s dad was giving his approval for Alvaro to hang out with Paulo – not that Alvaro needed his approval, but to receive it was a good sign nonetheless. No more talk of Paulo being a bad influence. No more talk of moving back to Madrid or getting a restraining order so Paulo could stay away.

Alvaro stepped through Paulo’s front door fucking smiling his face off. It only grew when he saw Paulo and Franco sitting on the couch, fiddling with some lame Lego set Alvaro bet they’d gotten on the way here, or whatever. And Franco was a big brother to them, age-wise or not, but – but he was also _not_.

“Fucking children,” Alvaro muttered as he sat down next to Paulo and kissed him on the cheek. Paulo hadn’t told him they’d bought a Lego set while they were texting. Probably because he knew Alvaro would react this way.

“Hey,” Paulo beamed. “Why’re you so happy? Did your dad talk to you?”

“Only to ask me to pass the water,” Alvaro said. “Oh, and to come home quickly to join you and Franco.”

Paulo froze with his Lego piece in the air. “What?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro grinned.

“Your dad’s not talking to you?” Franco asked.

Paulo glanced over at Alvaro, and Alvaro remembered his text reading, _Didn’t tell Franco yet, don’t know how much you want him to know_ , so Alvaro just said, outright, “We came out to my parents and my dad was mad pissed and he won’t talk to either of us and Paulo thinks my dad hates him.”

“What,” Franco said. “Okay, start from the mad pissed part.”

So Paulo and Alvaro took turns to explain to Franco what had happened, minus all the sex parts, of course. And Paulo mentioned something about Alvaro’s dad googling about gay stuff, which was news to Alvaro and honestly, he didn’t quite believe it.

“How do you know my dad googles gay stuff?” he asked.

“Your mom told me,” Paulo said. “And don’t say it that way. It sounds wrong.”

“What does he google?”

“Gay marriage? Gay rights?”

And fuck, even _Alvaro_ had never googled those things before. He was now officially behind his father on gay knowledge. “I don’t believe you.”

“Ask your mom. He cares, Alvaro. He just doesn’t show it.”

“Hello, guys,” Franco snapped his fingers impatiently. “I wanna hear the rest.”

“Well, dad kinda talked to us today,” Alvaro said. “Told us we played well. And then at dinner, I mentioned you guys were waiting for me, and he said we should get going so I won’t be late to the party.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. He’s still…distant.”

“He’s trying,” Franco said. “Give him some time. Why’d you come out so quickly? Even though you knew he’d react like this?”

Paulo turned to Alvaro, waiting for him to speak. Their story was all jumbled up and they hadn’t even told Franco about the leaked photographs. A few moments of silence passed before Paulo finally said, “We wanted to come out. To, like. The world.”

Franco froze. “Um,” he said. “Wow. Okay. That’s quick.”

“Yeah, uh,” Paulo cleared his throat. “So we don’t have to…have to hide. And um, there were pictures. Of the both of us. Holding hands. It’s even spread to Palermo.”

“Oh,” Franco said. “I haven’t seen it.”

“There’s been like, three instances of this mess,” Alvaro said. “I don’t think we should…you know, try to hide it. Maybe…maybe it’s better if we say the truth instead of having people find out.”

Franco nodded. Paulo passed him his phone to see the two sets of messages. He told Franco briefly about the derby encounter. Franco went silent, like he wasn’t sure how to react to this bombardment of crises upon him.

And then he said, “Well, maybe you wouldn’t have this problem if you could keep your fucking hands off each other, man, you’re like horny rabbits.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo punched him in the shoulder, but they were both laughing, so Alvaro knew he didn’t need to be angry at Franco. Again.

“But this is good, yeah,” Franco smiled encouragingly. “It’s a good idea. Since you said Allegri thinks the same, too.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Thanks.”

“How’re you going to come out, though? Like, a press conference or some shit?”

“Probably,” Paulo said hesitantly, like he’d never really thought about it. Alvaro realised that this entire thing was his idea. It had stemmed from his reluctance to keep hiding. He had dragged Paulo into all of this. “I don’t know.”

Franco went quiet again before saying, “Well, if you want be to be there, I will be. Like, if you want someone to vouch for you, or whatever. Just call me, tell me when, and I’ll be there. I promise.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said again, his voice wobbling a little. Alvaro grabbed his hand and held on tightly. “Thank you. Franco. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Franco smiled. And then, to lighten the tension, “Morata treating you right?”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Alvaro said.

Franco started laughing, but Paulo only turned to Alvaro and gave him this. This loving smile that melted all of Alvaro’s bones. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Better than anyone else ever.”

Franco’s laughter turned into a proud chuckle. He unwrapped Paulo’s hand from around the Lego piece he was still clutching. “I’m really glad,” he said. “Hey. Stop staring at each other. Go make out in your room or be rabbits or whatever, leave me and my Legos out of it.”

Paulo gave their half-finished sculpture a little shove but continued helping Franco with it, anyway. Alvaro sat and watched them both. Well, he watched Paulo. He didn’t really care much about watching Franco. Besides, that would’ve been creepy.

There was this awkward as fuck silence when Paulo left to take a shower. Alvaro didn’t _hate_ Franco or anything, but. But it had never been straightforward between Franco and Alvaro, even though they were friends. Franco fiddled around with the extra Lego pieces on the table for a few minutes before turning to Alvaro.

“You know why Paulo is like this, yeah?” he asked quietly.

“About my dad?” Alvaro clarified.

“Yeah. You know why he’s so…sensitive.”

“Yeah, I do. I’ve talked to him about it.”

“Yeah?”

“He gets it. He’s trying.”

Franco smiled. “That’s great.”

“I just,” Alvaro shrugged. “Sometimes I wish Paulo could find out what his dad thinks about him.”

“He can’t,” Franco said. “He has to deal with it.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “It just, it seems so important to him, and I don’t want him to get upset about this because he can’t change it, he can’t bring his dad back, and using my dad as a replacement doesn’t work, and. I don’t know. I want him to be happy.”

“He will be,” Franco smiled. “You just need to talk about it. With him.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “I know. Let him know that…that he’ll never find a new dad but he’ll always have people next to him who care about him like his dad did. Like. Like me. Like his mom, his brothers. Like _you_. I will. I just, maybe if my dad got over it, Paulo would feel better.”

“Maybe your dad will. Maybe he just needs a little more time.”

“But what if. What if we’re running out of time? What if we’re running out of time and we just don’t know it?”

Franco went quiet after that, and the silence became tense instead of awkward. Alvaro wasn’t sure if Franco had an answer for him. After all, Franco always had an answer for everything. He was like the wise elder brother Alvaro never had. It seemed strange, strange _and worrying_ that after all those times of butting his nose into Alvaro and Paulo’s business – in a good way, of course – Franco suddenly had no advice to give.

“But hey,” Franco eventually said, clearing his throat. “I hope we…that we’re okay now, yeah? You and me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alvaro smiled. “I just, you know. I’ve never been in this situation. You know, friends with…you…when you had that relationship with Paulo.”

“Yeah,” Franco agreed. “Me, too. It’s just. It’s different, Morata, I’ve told you this before. Paulo and Franco – different from Paulo and Alvaro. It has always been different. It has always been you. You were _always_ the only one in Paulo’s eyes.”

Alvaro smiled at the couch cushions. And blushed. Furiously. He was a fucking embarrassment. “Yeah? Yeah. I know that.”

“And I’ve never hated you, Morata. I’ve told you this a million times. I’m just. I’m just chill. Do whatever you want unless you hurt my friends.”

“So, I’m your friend now?”

“Yeah, why’d you think I offered to be here when you come out?”

Alvaro laughed. “I don’t know, maybe you were trying to make up for all the times you pissed on my feelings?”

“Fuck you, I don’t have to make up for anything,” Franco gave him a shove.

“I know, I’m just kidding,” Alvaro continued laughing. Franco was a nice guy to hang around. “Thanks, Vazquez.”

And that was when Paulo finally came back outside, just in time. But it was getting late and Franco had to get back to his team, so they all got up and went with him to the door.

Franco wrapped Paulo in a big hug as Alvaro watched, this strange sort of feeling in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy. It was more of a nostalgia. A tugging at his heartstrings, to put it old-fashionedly. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered into the patch of skin above Paulo’s ear. His hands moved up and down Paulo’s back a few times before giving it two gentle pats. “Yeah?”

Paulo nodded. “Yeah.”

Franco moved to hug Alvaro next – a first, Alvaro realised. The hug was warm and tight and comforting, and Alvaro realised in that moment that as much as he’d have liked a little brother like Paulo, he’d also have liked a big brother like Franco.

“Take care of yourselves,” he told Alvaro. “Morata, you’ll do great.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Franco. He didn’t want to let go. He needed someone to hold him and tell him everything was okay, everything was going to be okay. It wasn’t that Paulo didn’t do that. It was just. Just that Alvaro felt better that someone else also thought the same. That he and Paulo weren’t just living in their own delusional world.

“You gotta let go of me now, Paulo looks jealous and I’m not sure who he’s glaring at.”

Alvaro laughed. He let go of Franco only to see Paulo not glaring at anyone at all, just watching fondly. He reached out to hold Alvaro’s hand as Franco gave their shoulders a squeeze and headed out into the street to the taxi he’d called.

“What should we do now?” Paulo asked.

“First I’ll take a shower, and then we can google gay stuff.”

“Why do you wanna google gay porn when you can just take off my clothes?”

“Paulo, what the fuck,” Alvaro let go of Paulo’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder as he burst into delighted laughter. “Not gay porn, fuck, the gay rights and whatever, I wanna know more, too. In case my dad decides to, like, use his knowledge over me or whatever. But if you’re up for gay porn –“

“No, I’m fucking tired, give me a break,” Paulo whined. He wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s waist and let Alvaro drag him wherever. He was dropped off at the bed before Alvaro went to take his shower.

Alvaro took his time but Paulo was still awake when he came back out, laptop turned on and placed at the foot of the bed, ‘gay stuff’ typed into the search bar. Paulo was dozing off next to it, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Alvaro rolled into bed and Paulo awoke at once, lying on his stomach like Alvaro was. He watched the screen intently as Alvaro backspaced whatever was in the search bar and keyed in ‘gay rights in Italy,’ for starters.

And from that one simple search, he then spent the next couple of hours scouring the entire internet for all the information he could find, with Paulo peering over curiously and reading every article Alvaro stopped to read. Paulo had probably already read this sort of things a million times, but he paid full attention nonetheless, especially to the articles about Spain. And about homosexuality in sport. Homophobia in sport.

To Paulo’s credit, he did try stopping Alvaro from reading the upsetting articles. But Alvaro just kept clicking on them and soon Paulo got too sleepy to keep up with him. He gave a soft sigh and found a comfortable position to sleep, which turned out to be with his head nestled in the small of Alvaro’s back.

Alvaro shut the laptop and tried to put it on the table without waking Paulo but didn’t manage to, so he placed it on the floor. He turned on his back and let Paulo rest his head on Alvaro’s tummy. Paulo was facing up towards Alvaro and he had the same peaceful look he always had when he slept and it calmed Alvaro so much but at the same time made him forget how to breathe.

Alvaro pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head and felt Paulo lean his head into Alvaro’s touch, like a little cat seeking attention. Alvaro smiled. He twisted his body so his head was resting on Paulo’s feet. He watched Paulo’s head slowly follow the rise and fall of Alvaro’s breaths. He ran his fingers through Paulo’s hair and along his brow line. Paulo had this strange ability to make Alvaro forget about everything negative. Even though Alvaro had read like, fifty different articles that each invoked a different sort of paranoia, anger, or confusion in him – just watching Paulo, just the sight of Paulo’s face never failed to make Alvaro think that it was all going to be okay.

\------

Alvaro sat next to his dad to watch the match against Lazio, the one he was suspended for.

He didn’t _try_ to sit next to his dad. They just happened to be next to each other. Alvaro had a feeling maybe his dad had done it on purpose to torture the hell out of him.

When Paulo scored his first goal, a penalty, Alvaro stood up together with the rest of the people in the crowd, clapping excitedly. He was the only one in his family who’d stood up. When he sat back down, his father said, “You have to stop being so obvious.”

Alvaro ignored him. He wasn’t being obvious. He was cheering for his teammate.

Paulo scored his second goal about ten minutes later and Alvaro stood up again. He was just so. So immensely proud of Paulo. Of _his_ Paulo. He wanted to scream, from where he was standing. He wanted to scream to the world how proud he was of his beautiful, talented boyfriend.

“Alvaro, I mean it,” his dad muttered as Alvaro sat down again. “Stop this. If you’re trying to make me angry, you’ve already done it, so stop doing it. I’m saying this for your own good.”

Alvaro rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to make you angry, dad. I’m not a child.”

“Everyone’s going to find out and then your career will be dead. Dead.”

Alvaro took a deep breath. “Everyone’s going to find out, anyway.”

He didn’t dare to release the breath until he got a reaction from his dad. But he didn’t get any. His dad just froze in place, staring at the pitch ahead but also not, like he was seeing something completely different.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“We’re going to come out,” Alvaro said. “Together. We went to Madrid to tell you because we wanted you to know before we did it. But we’re going to do it. We have to do it. No matter what you say.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Alvaro?”

“No.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Then – then everything you’ve worked for. It’ll all go down the drain.”

“How do you know that?” Alvaro retorted. “Allegri already knows. He supports us. The club supports us. You don’t know shit about this, dad, you think it’s all bad but it isn’t. Everyone we’ve told so far is okay with it. Everyone except you.”

“Because it’s not okay!” Alvaro’s dad said angrily, trying to keep his voice low. “They don’t know you, Alvaro. They don’t know you as well as I do. This isn’t you, Alvaro, this isn’t. This isn’t the Alvaro I know. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let you throw everything away like that just – just for a boy!”

“He’s not _just a boy_. Fuck, dad, I would marry Paulo right now if I could, okay? He’s not just a boy. This isn’t just a phase. It’s who I am and I’m trying to deal with it, and I don’t need you constantly buzzing in my ear telling me that I’m sick!”

Alvaro’s dad went quiet, and suddenly all Alvaro could hear in the otherwise deafening atmosphere of the stadium was his silence. Alvaro didn’t turn, just fixed his eyes on the tiny grey spot that was Paulo running around.

And then his dad got up and walked away without another word, shoving his way past Alvaro’s mom and Marta. They stared after him incredulously, and then at Alvaro, who was still stubbornly watching Paulo. He stood by what he said. No matter how mad it made his dad, he stood by what he said. And this was exactly the reason why Alvaro didn’t believe that his dad was making an effort to learn. It certainly didn’t seem like it to Alvaro. And every time, every single time Alvaro thought things were taking a turn for the better, the world would come crashing down around him again. Every single time. Alvaro didn’t know what to think anymore.

Marta and mom left after giving Alvaro a hair ruffle and a hug, respectively. Alvaro sat there alone and watched the rest of the match play out, blinking his eyes to get rid of the angry tears pooling in them, and gnawing on his lip so he wouldn’t explode with fury and despair and indignation.

\------

Paulo took a deep breath before entering the mixed zone, where all the journalists were mingling. Waiting for him, needless to say. After all, he’d scored two goals. It wasn’t like Paulo hated journalists in general. He was just tired, like every other footballer after playing a match, and he’d very much rather go straight home and sleep rather than stay and give deadpan, politically correct answers to their questions.

The first few questions that came, Paulo fielded like an expert. It was second nature to him by then. We played cohesively. We displayed good teamwork. It was a good team effort. We need to continue like this. Blah, blah, blah.

And then Paulo heard a journalist ask, “Do you have anything to say about the circulating rumours regarding your relationship with your teammate Alvaro Morata?”

Paulo froze. He literally just froze right in place, his hand floating in the air, moving halfway to hoist his bag on his shoulder. He blinked a few times before it registered in his head what he’d just been asked. He stared at the journalist who’d asked that question, suddenly only seeing the eager, curious look that had manifested on his face as well as on all the other journalists’ faces in the vicinity.

“Paulo?” the journalist said.

“Uh,” Paulo snapped back into reality. “I haven’t heard any rumours so I can’t comment on them.”

And okay, fuck, Paulo wanted to give himself a pat on the shoulder for handling that so well. But he saw the journalist whip out his phone, seemingly to show Paulo what he was talking about. Panicking, Paulo said, “Sorry, I have to go or I’ll miss the bus,” and literally _ran_ out the J Stadium doors.

He was surprised to see Alvaro sitting on the bus, but instinct made him run right up to him anyway and sit down, his heart fucking pounding like there was someone hammering at his ribcage.

“Why’re you here?” he panted at Alvaro. Alvaro was supposed to be with his family.

“Fought with my dad,” Alvaro said. He was looking sadly out the window and Paulo decided not to bother him with his business.

They sat in silence as the headcount was done and the bus prepared to drive off. Paulo saw journalists stream out of the building, and fuck, he was sitting right next to Alvaro in plain view and Paulo was suddenly so petrified he stood up and scooted over to the seat across the aisle, next to Paul.

“What the fuck?” Paul said as Paulo jostled him.

“Reporters,” Paulo hissed.

“And?” Paul asked, and well, Paulo hadn’t really kept Paul up with everything that had happened.

“Tell you later,” Paulo said. Alvaro had slid out into the aisle seat and was currently leaning over the aisle, his dumb sad puppy look plastered on his face.

“You don’t wanna sit with me?”

“Fuck, take your flirting somewhere else,” Paul teased.

“There are reporters,” Paulo said hurriedly. “Outside.”

“And that means you can’t sit with me?” Alvaro asked, his brow furrowing. He gave that a very, very brief thought. And then his brow smoothened. “Oh, shit, did they –“

“Yes, yes, okay, let’s just all chill, okay?”

“What, you’re the least chill out of all of us here,” Paul said. “ _You_ chill.”

“What did they ask?” Alvaro asked. The bus had started moving and Alvaro moved back to the window, patting the seat next to him. “C’mon. Let’s talk about it.”

Paulo moved back and told him all about the very short encounter he’d had with the journalist. Alvaro went quiet after hearing it. And then, “We have to come out. Like, now.”

“Like, now now?”

“As soon as we can.”

“But what about your dad?”

“I told him we were going to do it.”

“No,” Paulo said in horror. “No.”

“Paulo, we have to do it. We’re just going to…we’re going to hurt more people. Bring more trouble. We have to do it as soon as possible.”

“Have you thought about what to _say_?”

“No, but. But we’ll think of something, okay? Okay? Paulo.”

“Okay,” Paulo reached out and grabbed Alvaro’s hand. It was cold and shaking and Paulo was so fucking scared because Alvaro was his strength, Alvaro was his _everything_ and Alvaro couldn’t have a breakdown like this. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Paulo, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No, hey,” Paulo whispered. He snuck a kiss on Alvaro’s lips. “It’s okay. We’re in this together. Always. Yeah?”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

“I love you so much, Alvaro.”

“I love you, too. To the ends of the earth and back.”

Paulo smiled. He leaned his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder and let it rock gently along with the bus ride. He felt a strange mixture of feelings all at once, the calming presence of Alvaro only partially neutralising the utter _fear_ gnawing at Paulo’s chest, like a tiny monster was rattling Paulo’s heart around. He felt hopeful and hopeless at once. Tired, yet so wide awake. He just wanted this to be over. Paulo just wanted all the drama to be over.

\------

Alvaro and Paulo talked to Allegri about coming out and Allegri had told them they could do it after their next match against Fiorentina. They scheduled a press conference on the Tuesday following the weekend match, separate from the one Allegri always gave before matches. They told Allegri about the reporters and Allegri revealed that he’d heard of some of those rumours, too.

Alvaro and Paulo didn’t dare to google them.

Alvaro had sent texts to his mom and Marta telling them about the press conference. Paulo had called his mom. All of them showed varying degrees of support, increasing from Alvaro’s mom to Marta to Paulo’s mom, as expected.

“How’s this look?” Alvaro asked, passing his phone to Paulo.

It was a block of text Alvaro had typed to his dad. It read:

_Hey dad. I know you’re mad at me, but please read this. Paulo and I plan to come out next week. There’s a press conference scheduled on Tuesday at 3pm. Allegri will be there. All our teammates will be there. Paulo’s mom and brothers will be there. I’m hoping that you, mom, and Marta will be there, too. I know it’s difficult for you to take, that you’re not familiar with all of this. I’m sorry that we have to rush into this. But the reason we told you so early is because we don’t want to keep hiding. It’s been so difficult. We want to be us, for everybody to see. I’m sorry if it hurts you. But we hope you understand, and we hope you can see, all the support that Juve are giving us. I hope you will give me a chance to show you that this isn’t a mistake. I’m not trying to make you angry, I’m not going through a late rebellious streak, I’m not doing this to seek attention, I’m not doing this because Paulo made me. I’m not sick. I just want to be me. I hope you’ll understand this, dad. I’m still your son. I will always be. I’m sorry for upsetting you. I hope that as I learn more about myself through all of this, you’ll be by my side learning about me with me, too. Love you, dad. From your son, Alvaro._

Paulo had tears in his eyes as he read the message. It was exactly what he would’ve said to his dad, too. He passed the phone back to Alvaro, nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah? Okay? Yeah?” Alvaro whispered. He was crying, too, and desperately trying to wipe his tears. “I’m sending it.”

He tapped on the send button and locked his phone immediately, not bearing to look at the message any longer. He burrowed his way under Paulo’s arm and cried silently.

“Should we call Franco?” Paulo whispered after Alvaro was all cried out.

“Yeah,” Alvaro mumbled. “Paulo, um. Can we…can we call Isco, too? Just, if you want.”

“Sure,” Paulo said. “Yeah. Of course.”

The phone call with Franco was short and sweet. Tuesday, 3pm, Vinovo, I’ll be there, okay, you two will do great, okay, hang up.

The phone call with Isco went much longer because Alvaro had to update him about everything that had happened. It took around twenty minutes, because out of everything Isco only knew that they’d gone back to Madrid to come out to Alvaro’s family. He didn’t know about the photographs or the homophobic Turin derby encounter or all the yelling Alvaro’s dad had done or the intrigued reporter.

“Holy shit,” was his response after Alvaro stopped talking. He had been put on speaker so Paulo could hear what was happening. “Okay, what can I do?”

“We’re having a press conference next Tuesday,” Alvaro said slowly. “So, um. We were hoping you could come, if you want.”

“Yeah? Will I be, like, involved in the press conference?”

“Not if you don’t want to. But maybe, if you want, they could ask you questions.”

“So like a character witness?” Isco laughed softly. “Yeah, sure. Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, and he sounded so fucking _relieved_ and Paulo clutched his hand more tightly.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you. Isco. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

There was this weird silence that followed. Alvaro was staring at his phone. Isco was clearing his throat nervously. And Paulo was just. Paulo was just fucking tired.

And then Alvaro said, “I’m so scared, Isco, I’m so fucking scared.”

“Hey,” Isco said softly. “It’s going to be okay. Paulo? Is Paulo there?”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. He was grabbing on to Alvaro for dear life and he was so fucking _scared,_ too, and he had no fucking idea what the fuck he was supposed to do.

“You two. It’s going to be fine. You know that the people who matter will always be sticking around no matter what. The people who matter the most won’t care about who you’re dating. Your fans, as long as you show them week after week that you still can play, won’t give a fuck. Your teammates, your friends, if they truly care, this won’t matter. Even if you feel like everything’s dark and you don’t know what the fuck is gonna happen, just remember this. At least through this, you get to find out who is truly worth your time.”

Alvaro shut his eyes as tears started falling out of them again. He pressed his head against Paulo’s cheek and grabbed on to Paulo’s hand like he wanted Paulo to be his strength but honestly, Paulo was running out of strength himself.

“Thank you,” Paulo said on behalf of the both of them.

“I know it’s difficult to trust coming from me, ‘cause I’m not involved in all this,” Isco continued. “But maybe as an outsider I also see things more clearly. I just. Alvaro, remember you once asked me what you should do? If you should get together with Paulo? And I refused to answer you even though I knew what you should have done because I was afraid I’d ruin everything.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said.

“It was this. This, what you’re doing now, it’s _exactly_ what I thought you should’ve done.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it was this, I promise. Get together with Paulo, be the first gay couple playing for the same team, fans will jeer at you but _I know you two,_ God damn it, and I know you two, together, are fucking _unbeatable_. I know it. I know you two will go out there, after Tuesday, and light up the fucking world. You two are going to be the role models for so many young people. You two are going to be the definition of what it’s like to be in love. Because even the fucking Atlantic can’t keep you two apart. You two are the fucking realest anyone will ever get to witness, and it’s their fucking honour to be able to, okay. You two were meant to be from the start, and shit, it makes me so fucking happy that this is going to happen, because no matter the reaction, now you can finally _be yourselves,_ and you _deserve it_.”

And by the end of that Alvaro and Paulo were a sobbing heap and they didn’t even have anything to say, and Isco was chuckling softly on the other end. And Paulo suddenly just. Just felt so detached from everything. Like this wasn’t real life. Like he was in some kind of sick, twisted dream.

“So…” Isco finally said again. “I’ll see you two on Tuesday, yeah? Good luck.”

And then he hung up the phone, and the both of them just lay there, sobs ebbing away. Alvaro, for some reason, opened the chat between him and his dad and saw the two blue ticks meaning that he’d read it fifteen minutes ago, but hadn’t replied.

“He’s not going to come,” Alvaro started sobbing again, because Paulo knew that no matter how hard Alvaro tried to put on a strong front, he still wanted, still _needed,_ his dad’s approval.

“You don’t know that,” Paulo said, but. But in reality they _did_.

“He’s still mad at me. He’s going to be mad at me forever and he’s going to disown me and I won’t have a family.”

“No, hey,” Paulo held Alvaro’s head close to him. “Don’t say that. He’ll come around. He needs time.”

“We don’t have any fucking time.”

And that was true, so Paulo had nothing to say to that. He had nothing to say to make Alvaro feel even the slightest bit better. Paulo felt like a helpless, useless boyfriend. He felt like no matter how many times he tried to rebuild everything, it eventually all crumbled again. He didn’t know how many more times he could take this. He didn’t know what was coming for him and Alvaro and it _terrified_ him. It terrified him that after all these years of always being okay, this could be their breaking point, and he and Alvaro weren’t going to be okay.

Alvaro cried until he fell asleep, but Paulo couldn’t stop staring at the screen of Alvaro’s phone, hoping that the next time it lit up, it would be Alvaro’s dad.

It didn’t light up by the time Paulo fell into the same disturbed sleep as Alvaro.


	40. Through Chaos As It Swirls, It's Us Against The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Us Against The World by Coldplay.

Once news of the scheduled press conference trickled out, the tabloids all got to work. Articles were spilled out by the dozen, speculating what it could be about. And almost all of them got it correct, once it was clear that Paulo and Alvaro were the ones holding it. Besides, even though neither of them had read any of the earlier speculation, they knew that photo of them holding hands was floating around somewhere.

Paulo had always been better with words, but Alvaro was better at navigating difficult situations. So Paulo made Alvaro tell him what they should say, and Paulo wrote it out nicely in a script, and they sent it to their agents and Allegri for approval. They sent it right back a couple of hours later with variations of ‘go ahead and use this.’

Alvaro’s dad didn’t reply even by Tuesday morning.

There was no word from Marta or Alvaro’s mom whether they were flying over. Paulo and Alvaro understood, really, because it was difficult for them, being in the middle. It didn’t stop Alvaro from constantly checking his phone, though.

They’d met Paulo’s mom and brothers in a private room with a TV right after lunch on Tuesday. Paulo’s mom had this worried yet proud look on her face. She wrapped Paulo in a big warm hug, and she asked, “You’re completely sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “And…and you’re okay with it?”

“Of course. As long as it’s what you want.”

“You know we’ll always be here,” Mariano ruffled Paulo’s hair with a smile. And it was true. Mariano had been there, physically, even when Alvaro couldn’t be, since day one.

Paulo moved to wrap his entire family in a big hug. He saw Alvaro just stand awkwardly in the doorway, not completely sure what he was supposed to do. He couldn’t leave Paulo alone. He _wouldn’t_. And Paulo wouldn’t let him. But Paulo knew he thought that he wasn’t exactly supposed to go and join in their little family time, either.

But that was only until Paulo’s mom waved at him to go over, and. And Alvaro practically ran over and burrowed his way into the hug. He needed to know that he still belonged somewhere. He needed to know that even though he didn’t have his dad right then, even though he only had fifty percent of Marta and his mom – he had another family who would make him feel equally warm, another mom and two elder brothers. And he had Paulo. He would always have Paulo.

Allegri gathered everyone in the main TV room before they were due to go out for the press conference. Isco and Franco hovered by the door, unsure if they were actually invited inside. But Allegri didn’t chase them away, so.

“Okay, everyone,” Allegri addressed the noisy room. “I’m sure you know how big this is for all of us. This is something new, not only to our club but also to football. But it’s a good thing. It’s progress. And I’d like to thank all of you, on behalf of Paulo and Alvaro too, for all your gracious support and for being here today. It means a lot to me and to them.

“There’s a small group of journalists waiting for us to start. I’m sure they’ll have a lot of questions. I trust Paulo and Alvaro will address most of them. But they may like to ask some of you questions, too, as well as to Franco and Isco – whom I believe attracted _many_ suspicious glances when they entered this building today. I hope and trust that you’ll represent us well. If any of you don’t feel comfortable, you should leave right now.”

No one got up to leave, much to Paulo and Alvaro’s relief. Isco made a little running gesture like he was about to bolt, but then burst into a huge grin that said he was kidding. Franco was just. He was just staring at Isco like Isco was crazy.

Allegri dismissed everyone after some brief instructions – no homophobia, represent the club well, say ‘no comment’ if you don’t feel like answering any question, please leave if you’re uncomfortable, the likes – and came over to Paulo and Alvaro.

“You ready?” he smiled encouragingly.

Paulo nodded. Alvaro said, “Yeah.”

“It’s not too late to back out, if you want.”

Paulo turned to Alvaro. Alvaro turned to him, too. They shared a brief _please just let the hiding be over, I’ll do whatever it takes_ look. And Paulo knew.

“We’re not going to back out,” Paulo said.

“Good,” Allegri said. “Good luck. Ten minutes.”

And then he left, and everyone settled down in their seats and Paulo and Alvaro went to the door to see Franco and Isco.

“Hey, you two,” Isco greeted them cheerfully. It was nice having him there. He sort of made everything less gloomy with all his weird antics. Though Franco seemed to think otherwise. “You’re gonna ace this.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Thanks.”

“So glad you’re here, this guy’s been glaring at me since we arrived,” Isco pretended to whisper, pointing at Franco, who narrowed his eyes further.

“I’m not _glaring_ at you,” Franco retorted.

Alvaro burst into soft laughter. The kind of soft laughter that made Paulo feel like he was floating. “Don’t worry, Franco doesn’t bite,” he said. Then he turned to Paulo, a cheeky smirk on his face. “Does he?”

“Alvaro!” Paulo exclaimed. He felt a blush creep up his neck. He realised that, well. This was a weird group of people to be hanging out in. Although everyone communicated in Spanish and made him feel right at home. “Fuck! What the fuck! That’s totally inappropriate.”

But Isco was laughing, and even _Franco_ was laughing, so Paulo couldn’t help but forgive Alvaro. He was only trying to lighten the mood. He was trying to make Paulo feel better. Sure, Alvaro was awkward as fuck but his straightforwardness meant he never once failed to mitigate weird situations like these and Paulo was just _so fucking fond_.

“I don’t think I want to hear the answer to that,” Isco said when he caught his breath.

“I _don’t bite_ ,” Franco announced. “In whatever way.”

“Sure, sure,” Isco said. He pinched some of the fabric of Franco’s sleeve in his hand and started pulling him towards two empty seats. “Come on. Let’s watch these two kick ass.”

“They’re gonna hit it off, aren’t they?” Paulo remarked as he stood at the door with Alvaro to take one last look at the room. At their raving supporters. Isco was talking animatedly to Franco, his body turned towards Franco, arm draped over the back of his own chair, leaning slightly towards Franco. Franco was facing the front and leaning back on his chair, hands clasped on his lap, head turned towards Isco, trying to field his eager questions. The classic extrovert and introvert conversation. Isco and Franco were the two extremes.

“Totally,” Alvaro beamed. It wasn’t the first time Franco and Isco had met – they’d met that time at Paulo’s twentieth birthday party – but it was the first time they’d spoken. And the first time they were going to have to hang out together, just the both of them. But they seemed to be getting along, so. “Hey. We’re gonna kick ass.”

“We are,” Paulo tiptoed to kiss Alvaro. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. No matter what happens.”

Paulo took his phone out from his pocket to turn it off. He knew tweets and messages were going to flood right in once the press conference started.

He saw the screen displaying one single notification.

A text from Alvaro’s dad, sent two hours ago.

_Dear Paulo. If Alvaro chooses to be with you for the rest of his life, I would be very happy. Love, dad._

“Oh, my God,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro turned from the room to him. “What?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s your dad,” Paulo said. He held his phone out to Alvaro with a shaking hand. “He texted me.”

“What?” Alvaro said again, practically snatching the phone from Paulo. He read the message, like, three times, then, “No. No. Yes.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. His heart was beating out of his fucking chest but in a way so different from how it had been the past week. It sort of felt like. Like his heart was _free_ instead of trapped.

Alvaro whipped out his own phone from his pocket. “I have one, too,” he said in disbelief.

“Open it. Alvi. Open it.”

Alvaro opened it and stared at it for like, thirty seconds, even though it was evident from where Paulo was standing that it was only two lines. And then he said, still disbelievingly, “Yes. No. Yes.”

“What does it say?”

Alvaro passed Paulo the phone.

_My dearest Alvaro. You will always be my son. Love, dad._

“Oh, my God,” Paulo mouthed, closing his eyes as tears started to fall out of them, literally three minutes before he and Alvaro were due to face a room of reporters. “Oh, my God.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro breathed, wrapping his arms tightly around Paulo and pushing Paulo’s head into his chest. “It’s all okay now. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah?” Paulo sobbed softly. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to be okay,” Alvaro repeated, and. And he sounded like he was crying, too, and fuck. They were totally going to go inside all teary-eyed and fuck up the entire thing.

“I love you so much,” Paulo whispered.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro squeezed Paulo so tight Paulo wasn’t sure if his lungs knew how to expand. “So, so, so fucking much.”

“Should we, um. Like, go?”

The room had quietened because the TV had been turned on. The camera was panning across the room of reporters – it was quite a small number of them, probably less than fifteen. It calmed Paulo a little. But only a little.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Alvaro said.

They threw a glance at Franco and Isco before leaving. They were both now engaged in a hushed conversation that looked like it could be about Paulo and Alvaro. They both caught on that the subjects of their conversation were staring at them at the same time, so they gave a coordinated ‘good luck out there’ wave.

Paulo and Alvaro walked hand in hand down the corridor to the journalists’ room. Allegri was waiting at the entrance. Paulo didn’t want to let go of Alvaro’s hand. It was warm and sticky and sweaty from nervousness but Paulo never _ever_ wanted to let go of it.

“Ready, boys?” Allegri asked with a smile.

“Yes boss,” Alvaro said with a charming smile. His usual charming smile which charmed the fucking socks off Paulo and which Paulo knew was going to charm the socks off everybody in the room.

Alvaro pried his hand out of Paulo’s and gave Paulo a kiss on the head and a gentle smile. He could probably tell Paulo was scared. Not only because he always could tell if Paulo was scared, but. But because literally everybody who saw Paulo could tell Paulo was scared.

“We’ll ace this, baby,” Alvaro whispered as they both sat down.

Allegri started off with courteous words, thanking the journalists for taking the time for a special event. He then proceeded to hint at what this whole thing was about.

“As we are all so familiar with, Alvaro arrived here in Turin almost two years ago. Paulo arrived last year. But the friendship between these two has stretched way longer than just this past ten or eleven months – the friendship between these two has lasted years and years. I’m very glad to have these two in my team. Their spirit, their determination, their ability to work so flawlessly together – these are qualities that every manager looks for. But today isn’t a work issue. It isn’t about them on the pitch. We would like to address things that have been floating around off the pitch. Usually, our players’ private lives don’t warrant this kind of press conference. But Paulo and Alvaro have requested it, and I support them, because this is an issue that has been a taboo for a long, long time, and I’m glad that our club has established a supportive enough environment that Paulo and Alvaro feel comfortable sharing this with us. That being said, I hope that what they say today will not be misreported nor twisted, and I hope that we will all take this with a level of respect that reciprocates what Paulo and Alvaro have been so kind to give us. And lastly, they will choose what they wish to keep private, and what they want to let us know. At the end of this session, there will be a Q&A first with myself, Paulo, and Alvaro, and then with the rest of the team as well as a couple of their friends from other clubs. However, any one of them may choose not to answer any question if they do not feel comfortable. So, with all these being said, let’s start.”

And then he turned to Alvaro sitting next to him, and Paulo sitting at the very end next to Alvaro. They both had copies of their ‘script’ placed in front of them. Alvaro cleared his throat.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said in his kind, gentle voice, and Paulo just. Paulo decided to shift his attention to Alvaro instead of staring at the front row of journalists because it’d make him calm. “We’ve heard from various sources, of varying degrees of closeness to us, about rumours that have been circulating about the both of us. About the relationship between the both of us.”

He paused to clutch at the sheet of paper on the table in front of him, dog-earing the edges. His eyes scanned the words, and then stopped to blink nervously. And Paulo wanted to hold his hand, or nudge his thigh under the table, or whisper to him that it was okay, but. But he couldn’t, and Paulo felt so fucking trapped.

And then Alvaro continued, “We have read the articles you guys have published about us regarding what this press conference is about. We have heard about some of the articles that you have published before that, regarding the both of us, too – but we haven’t read those. Nevertheless, we know what you – and people in general – are thinking about the both of us. And we are here today…we are here today not to refute those rumours.”

The room exploded into soft murmurs. Paulo caught only tiny snippets of them. _So it’s true? They’re a couple? How long? What does this mean for the team? What does this mean for football?_

“We are here today,” Alvaro continued above all the noise, which quickly declined to silence again. “To tell all of you that – yes, Paulo and I are in a relationship. A romantic relationship. It hasn’t been a long time since we started going out, but it has been a long time since we realised we would both like to. Due to circumstances, it hasn’t been possible until recently. But that’s not the main issue we wish to address today. We would like to be ourselves, Paulo and I, and we believe that this will not affect our performance on the pitch, which is what we’re sure you are most concerned about regarding our relationship. We do not want to go around hiding and keeping things from all of you and lie to or mislead you, especially since this appears to be very deeply intertwined with football.”

And then he turned to Paulo with this tiny relieved smile, which, well. Was because he’s finished his part and it was now Paulo’s turn.

Paulo cleared his throat. “We believe that our consistency in the games since the beginning of the year is adequate proof that this will have minimal, if any, effect on our performance. Football has always come first for the both of us. Football is how we met. And football will always take top priority as long as we are able to play. Juventus has been very gracious and understanding regarding our relationship and for that we are extremely grateful. We hope to receive the same kind of support from you. Of course, we know that this isn’t 100% achievable. But as Alvaro said, we don’t want to hide or lie. We want to be truthful and put a stop to all the speculation, and so here it is. This is the truth. Alvaro and I are a couple.”

The murmurs started again before Allegri took over. “This all is largely a part of Paulo and Alvaro’s private lives, but as long as they are players of Juventus Football Club, this is also partially our responsibility. I think it is a good idea that we hold this press conference today so that you all understand. As they have mentioned, football remains top priority. This also means that nothing will change regarding the way I choose my teams for every game. Nothing will change regarding the roster and regarding Paulo and Alvaro’s positions in the team. Everything remains as it was, except now the truth is out.”

“We hope that the step we are taking today will encourage others to do the same,” Paulo continued. “We feel that the LGBT+ voice is lacking in professional football, and we, like all the other male footballers who have come out before us – Thomas Hitzlsperger, Robbie Rogers, Anton Hysén, David Testo, Olivier Rouyer, all the way back to Justin Fashanu – hope to erase the stigma towards homosexuality in football. We are aware that this is a first, two teammates in a romantic relationship, and we hope that this will pave the way for more LGBT+ advocacy, more encouragement for young people to be less fearful of discovering themselves. We do not, intentionally or not, want to hurt anybody involved. But we hope, too, that you will respect our privacy at this time and understand that there may be some questions that we will not feel comfortable answering.”

“And with that, we are opening the floor to questions,” Allegri said with a smile.

And like, literally _all_ of the reporters’ paddles came up at once. Allegri took his time to call out their names.

“Question for Morata. We know your father has been an avid supporter of your football career since you were a child. How does your family react to this?”

Alvaro cleared his throat. It was just his luck to get this as a first question, Paulo thought.

“They are all supportive. Paulo’s family, too.”

“Question for Allegri. How do you think this will affect the cohesion of your team?”

“All the boys are very close. They remain very close and are incredibly supportive of Paulo and Alvaro. I’m very glad to have such a cooperative group of players and I believe they all have played, and will continue to play, a big role in supporting Paulo and Alvaro. It doesn’t affect the cohesion of my team.”

“Question for Dybala. How long have you known Morata, and how did you meet? Did this relationship start when you arrived in Turin in June last year?”

“I’ve known him for almost seven years. We met in 2009 when some Argentine players went to Madrid for a training camp. I was hosted by Alvaro’s family. Our relationship started at the end of last year.”

“Question for Dybala. What stopped you from starting this relationship earlier?”

“We knew that it would be difficult given the careers we have both chosen. Playing for the same team counterintuitively made it more difficult. We were also separated for the first six years of our friendship; Alvaro was in Madrid and then Turin, and I was in Córdoba and Palermo. It took us some time to iron things out once we were both in Turin.”

“Question for Dybala. What made you realise that this relationship was the right step for the both of you?”

Paulo paused. He didn’t like to think about the circumstances of the end of their friendship, and then after a painful week, the start of their relationship. He didn’t like to think of all the pain they had to go through to make this happen. He didn’t want to remember all those words he’d said to Alvaro, although Alvaro had admitted eventually that they were the truth. He didn’t want to think that he had hurt Alvaro. He didn’t want to think that he had forced Alvaro into this relationship.

“No comment,” Paulo said, his voice wobbly. The room became silent not only because of his answer but also because Alvaro reached across the table and wrapped his hand around Paulo’s.

But just as quickly as the silence had fallen, it was lifted again.

“Question for Morata and Dybala. Have either of you been in a prior homosexual romantic relationship?”

“No. Paulo and I are each other’s first.”

“Question for Morata. We know there is a buy-back clause for Real Madrid in your contract. If you leave Juventus, what happens to this relationship?”

Paulo saw Alvaro freeze. He looked petrified. Paulo knew he’d been anticipating a question like this, but they’d never talked about it because it was something they didn’t want to see happening. And maybe if they talked about it, it would become real. Besides, Alvaro couldn’t really say anything without his agent.

“No comment,” Alvaro finally said.

The room went silent for a quick second before proceedings continued.

“Question for Allegri. Will Dybala and Morata get to play together more?”

“My team sheet choices follow the same criteria as before: the team we are playing against, and performance in training.”

“Question for Allegri. With complete honesty, how does this affect the dynamics of your team?”

“As mentioned before, it doesn’t change anything. Paulo and Alvaro have shown me that they can handle being in a relationship together with producing stellar performances week after week, no matter how many minutes they play. There has been no considerable dip in standard since their relationship started. This is evident in every match. They continue being hardworking team players, which works very well for me.”

“Question for Allegri. How do you plan to keep them in check?”

“I don’t need to keep them in check, per se, because they’re adults and they can be responsible for their own decisions. But they know what they can and cannot do. They know what crosses the line.”

“Question for Morata and Dybala. How will this relationship affect your football?”

“It will hopefully not affect our football at all. We have tried our very best to keep it separate.”

“Question for Morata and Dybala. How do you anticipate the fans to react to this?”

“We don’t expect 100% support from everybody,” Alvaro started slowly. “We understand that there are different mindsets and different ways of looking at this. But we will work hard to prove to you that we are still the same Morata and Dybala that you know on the pitch, and that being in a relationship like this does not change the Morata and Dybala that you know. Not at all. But we hope that at this time, you could take this with some understanding and graciousness, and respect that this is our life and we have chosen to take this path.”

“Question for Morata and Dybala. Do you have any special words of encouragement for your fans of all ages who look up to you?”

Paulo smiled. Alvaro said, “We want to say, don’t be afraid of being yourself. Hiding it in, bottling it up, has done nothing for us. We are so glad that we found each other, and we are so glad that we were brave enough to get into this relationship. We hope that you will be brave enough to discover yourselves, too.”

“We’ve been through that stage of life before, and we know that sometimes, it can be confusing,” Paulo chimed in. “But we hope you give yourself a chance to figure out what you like and what you want. And I hope that one day, you’ll find someone you love just as much as I love Alvaro; you’ll find someone who makes you as happy as Alvaro makes me, and you won’t regret giving yourself a chance.”

There was silence again except for the clicking of the cameras.

“If there are no more questions, we’ll end this press conference here. The other Juve players will be brought into the room, along with Paulo and Alvaro’s old friends, Franco Vazquez from Palermo and Isco Alarcon from Real Madrid.”

“One more question,” someone yelled. “Will you two kiss for the cameras?”

Paulo and Alvaro turned to each other. Alvaro had this tiny cheeky smile on his face. They both turned to Allegri, seemingly to ask for permission.

Allegri narrowed his eyes at them, confused. He turned to the crowd, and then back to Paulo and Alvaro, and then back to the crowd again, this time with an incredulous, _‘can you believe these two are asking me for permission?’_ look on his face. The crowd burst into delighted laughter when Allegri nodded at Paulo and Alvaro.

And Alvaro just. He leaned over the small space in between him and Paulo and grabbed Paulo by the sides of his head. He gave Paulo only just enough time to react by grabbing Alvaro’s biceps before he closed the gap fully and kissed Paulo on the lips.

Paulo was immediately filled with this rush of relief, this tidal wave of joy and peace and _freedom_ , like his heart suddenly knew how to pump blood at a normal rhythm again. He shifted his hands to the sides of Alvaro’s neck. He didn’t want to stop kissing Alvaro. The sound of all the cameras clicking endlessly was drowned out by the mere fact that Alvaro made Paulo’s blood rush so quickly and violently through his veins that Paulo felt like he could explode.

It was all blurry when Alvaro finally pulled away and Paulo wasn’t sure if it was because Alvaro made him dizzy as fuck or just because he was sitting so close to Alvaro, heads pressed together.

“I love you,” Alvaro mouthed.

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered. “Till the end of time.”

And then Allegri clapped loudly so they pulled apart, and then suddenly the rest of their team flooded into the room and took their places in the perimeter, followed by Franco and Isco who came in last and stood next to the table where Paulo and Alvaro were seated.

The room slowly filled with lots of chatter, but Paulo and Alvaro had already gotten their fair share of questions, so they were able to sit there quietly and observe.

“Good job, boys,” Allegri said proudly. He gave both their shoulders a squeeze before leaving the room.

Paulo and Alvaro just did nothing for a few moments. They just sat there and breathed for the first time in days and tried to hear little snippets of conversations. They heard Mario going “No comment. No comment. No comment,” sarcastically to every question, to piss the reporters off; before eventually caving and answering them properly. They saw Paul gesturing animatedly towards the both of them. They saw Simone nodding and smiling shyly at a reporter, saying yeah, Alvaro and Paulo were his close friends and that wasn’t going to change just because they were in a relationship. They saw Gigi with this proud look on his face, saying that getting together and coming out to the team had made Paulo and Alvaro so much happier.

They heard Isco, right beside them, claiming, “I’ve known Alvaro since he was in diapers,” and when Alvaro yelled at him, changed it to, “Fine, I’ve known him since we were in the youth team. But I’ve gotten the honour to watch Paulo and Alvaro grow together, and let me tell you, these two are the very definition of modern love.”

And then he proceeded to explain how, over all these years, Alvaro and Paulo had so meticulously managed to balance football and feelings despite the fact that the latter was affecting their entire lives in a huge way. And Alvaro seemed to forgive him immediately, so. Paulo was fine with it.

Paulo heard Franco answering the questions as professionally and calmly as he had always been able to. He told the reporters, without revealing too much, that he had known Paulo since Paulo had started to discover himself. He told them that Paulo had always been strong, it had been difficult but Paulo had always stuck with what he’d wanted ever since he’d realised he wanted it. He told them that Paulo and Alvaro had loved each other for a long, long time, but had never chosen this path because they wanted each other to be safe and they never thought they would have as much support that they did. And that them getting together was the best thing that had happened to either of them in their entire lives.

“You hear that?” Paulo whispered to Alvaro, whose ears were practically about to detach from his head from how hard he was trying to listen to everything at once.

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled.

“Franco doesn’t hate you,” Paulo said softly. Even though they were okay, it was just. Paulo never got rid of the feeling that Alvaro thought Franco disliked him in some way.

“I know,” Alvaro reached over and slipped his fingers in between Paulo’s. “It’s just. Weird. And I don’t know when it’ll stop being weird.”

“Yeah,” Paulo gave his hand a squeeze. “Alvaro. We’re going to be okay.”

“We are,” Alvaro said in awe. “We are.”

They stopped listening after that, finally at peace with the fact that their teammates and friends were going to handle it flawlessly. After all, from Paulo and Alvaro’s answers during the press conference, they already knew what they were and weren’t supposed to say. So Paulo and Alvaro just sat there, hand in hand, smiling goofily at each other for no fucking reason, occasionally pecking each other softly on the lips, aware that some cameras were still clicking in the background but so blissfully unbothered by it because now _it didn’t matter_.

After a half-hour the journalists’ time was up, so they were all called out of the room. All their teammates started crowding around the table and behind it, smothering Paulo and Alvaro, ruffling their hair and pulling their ears and telling them how they’d aced the press conference.

And then everyone gathered for a group photo, including Franco and Isco, who looked completely out of place in their own clothes while everyone else was in their Juve t-shirts. And Paulo and Alvaro were dragged around for individual photos with each of their teammates, all of them wanting to show some sort of support on social media, needless to say, but. But Paulo and Alvaro felt like they were some sort of superstars.

“I’m fucking tired,” Paulo eventually whined, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Fucking baby,” Franco remarked, making everybody laugh again.

“Only I can call my boyfriend ‘baby,’” Alvaro said matter-of-factly.

“Fucking hell,” Franco rolled his eyes.

And then the room was going to be shut so after a photo of just the four of them – Paulo, Alvaro, Franco, and Isco – they all flooded back out and everyone dispersed to grab their belongings or return home. Paulo and Alvaro lingered for a while helping Franco and Isco figure out what to do.

“Don’t worry about us, we’ll go hang out somewhere,” Isco said. “We had a nice talk.”

“Yeah, we’ll have fun,” Franco said with a small smile.

“You sure?” Alvaro asked. “You wanna be seen hanging out together?”

“What, you worried we’ll do something gay?” Isco said with a smirk which quickly morphed into a horrified expression once he realised what he’d said. “I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, just, we’re not, God, shit, don’t hate me, fuck.”

Paulo burst into laughter. He couldn’t help it. He was practically hysterical. “No, yeah, it’s just. Rumours.”

“Whatever,” Franco said. “Once today’s over they’ll all know why we were here.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. “We’ll call later if we can hang out.”

“So you’re letting us go out and be gay?” Isco asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Alvaro smiled. “Hey. Thanks for coming all the way over here. Really, we really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Isco and Franco said in unison. “You two need people like us to stop you from being stupid,” Isco continued.

“Fuck off,” Alvaro said.

So Isco hooked his arm in Franco’s and started dragging him away, leaving Franco only to glance over his shoulder at Paulo and Alvaro with this really amusing _‘please help me’_ look. But they knew he was only joking, because he suddenly burst into laughter at something Isco said.

“Do you think they’ll hook up?” Paulo asked, staring after them.

“A hundred percent,” Alvaro said.

“That’ll be cute,” Paulo said as they started walking again hand in hand towards the private room to meet Paulo’s family.

“Not as cute as us,” Alvaro replied as they rounded the corner and the doorway.

And saw Alvaro’s family standing in the middle of the room with Paulo’s family.

Marta was the first to see them standing frozen in the doorway. She bounded over excitedly to them and wrapped them in a big hug. “Sorry, our flight got delayed, but,” she said. “Look who’s here!”

Alvaro’s dad. Alvaro’s dad was there, standing in the middle of everyone, gazing towards the door with this expression on his face, this mixture of pride and regret and nostalgia and just this intense _happiness_ to see Paulo and Alvaro again, together, in front of his very eyes.

He opened his arms wide and he said, “Come here, both of you.”

And Paulo and Alvaro just. Just bolted, sprinted right into his arms and almost knocked him over. He wrapped them up tightly and chuckled into their shoulders. “Hey, boys,” he said softly.

“Hey, dad,” they said in unison.

Everyone burst into adoring laughter, including Alvaro’s dad. He softly rubbed Alvaro and Paulo’s backs, gentle strokes up and down. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I just didn’t really understand. I still don’t really understand. But I’m trying my best, and I hope you give me a chance to watch you two do this. To watch you two do this right. I know you two really love each other and if this is really what you want, then I’ll try my best to learn, to support you. Because I know how it feels, to really love a person. And you two, you’re in love with your best friend, and that’s. That’s something really lucky. I’m sorry I doubted that. I just, I hope you’ll give me some time, some time to get used to this, but. But I want you to know that I love you, both of you, and I’m so, so proud of you today.”

And Paulo had to bite hard on his lip to fight back his tears because he was just. He was just so fucking _happy_ and he wanted to pinch himself to see if this was real or the entire day had just been a dream. He shifted his head on Alvaro’s dad’s shoulder so he could see Alvaro, only to find Alvaro already gazing over at him.

“You’re not dreaming,” Alvaro mouthed.

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you,” he whispered, both to Alvaro and Alvaro’s dad.

“I’m very happy that it’s you, Paulo,” Alvaro’s dad continued softly. “You are an amazing young man and you make Alvaro so happy.”

He turned to Alvaro next, and said, “And you. You’ll always be my son. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for doubting you when you said that this would be okay. After today, after seeing all the support you’ve got – I know it’s going to be okay. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance. But I will now, and I’ll be here if you need me, for whatever reason, okay? I just, sometimes, I may not understand. But I’m trying. I hope you’ll understand that.”

“Of course, dad,” Alvaro whispered. “I didn’t understand it, either, in the beginning.”

Alvaro’s dad smiled. He gave their backs a final pat before letting go of the hug. “How about we all go out for a celebratory meal?” he asked.

And everybody agreed, so they all started flooding out of the room and outside to the parking lot. Alvaro tugged at Paulo’s arm so they lagged behind, staying in the room alone.

They stood there, hand in hand, just doing nothing for a while. They listened to the voices of their families echoing off the walls, getting softer as they neared the exit. Eventually it all faded to silence.

Paulo shifted his gaze to Alvaro’s face, running it over every inch, taking in every single inch of Alvaro’s pure, unrivalled beauty. He had never gotten, and _would never_ _get,_ tired of Alvaro’s face. He could spend the rest of his life doing nothing but looking at Alvaro, and it would still make him happy.

But Paulo was just. Just suddenly really tired. Suddenly, the happenings of the entire day crashed down on him at once, like a flood breaking a dam. They were finally alone, Paulo finally had Alvaro all to himself, and he fucking loved Alvaro more than he had ever loved Alvaro and it was beginning to eat him alive. He was relieved, Paulo was so fucking relieved that everything was okay but a part of him was thinking that this was all too good to be true, a part of him knew that this was just the beginning, it was day zero, and hell was yet to be unleashed but who knew if they would survive it? Paulo found himself so overwhelmed he burst into sudden tears which he wasn’t even sure himself were happy or sad.

“Hey,” Alvaro whispered, wrapping Paulo up in a warm hug. A warm hug flavoured of Paulo’s favourite scent. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo whispered back. “This is just the beginning, isn’t it? Things are going to get worse. They’re giving us this good day to make up for all the bad things that are coming.”

“You don’t know that,” Alvaro said, but even he sounded doubtful. “Don’t think about it like that. It’s too late to turn back.”

“I don’t want to turn back. It’s just. Just that I’m scared of what’s in front.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro whispered. “Paulo. No matter what happens, even if the rest of my life falls apart – you and me, we’ll always be okay. Yeah? I promise, Pau. I promise.”

Paulo pressed his face into the middle of Alvaro’s chest, right where his heart was. “Alvi, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro mumbled, his lips buried in Paulo’s hair. “We’ll always be okay. Paulo and Alvaro. Always.”

“How are you so sure of this?”

“I…I’ve always been, Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. “I just refused to act on it. I refused to accept it. I refused to accept that…that I like a boy so much that I’m willing to give up everything for him. But this is me. I’m not the coward that I used to be or the shithead who tried to act all badass. I’m a fucking softie and I’m not afraid to be that. I realised that. That maybe, being a man isn’t all about trying to put on a strong front all the time. It’s tiring. Maybe being a man is about accepting that we’re weak for some things. And I’m fucking weak for you, Paulo Bruno Dybala.”

Paulo smiled. “That’s what you’ve figured out about yourself so far?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered, digging his head into the curve of Alvaro’s neck. “That’s good. I’ll be here for the rest.”

“You will?” Alvaro asked, and he sounded _delighted._

“Of course,” Paulo said. “You were here for me when I figured it out. Even though it was messy and ugly.”

Alvaro was smiling as he kissed Paulo on his temple. “Are you proud of me?”

“For being brave?” Paulo laughed. After all, as Alvaro had said himself, his life had always been handed to him on a plate. This was the first real decision regarding the path of his life that he’d made on his own. And Paulo was so immensely proud that Alvaro dared to do it, that Alvaro wasn’t afraid to face it head-on. “I am. I’m very, very, very proud, Alvaro.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro said, laughing softly as Paulo nudged him. “C’mon. Let’s go have dinner.”

“I have a dad again,” Paulo said, his voice wobbling.

“We both do,” Alvaro whispered. He let go of Paulo and took Paulo’s hand. “Paulo. We are always going to be okay and I will never stop reminding you of that.”

“You never have,” Paulo said softly, with a smile.

Alvaro leaned over and placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on Paulo’s lips, sending electricity rippling through every single one of Paulo’s veins. He grabbed the back of Alvaro’s neck, holding it in place, letting his tongue work its way into Alvaro’s open mouth. Alvaro tasted like sweet liberation, like solace after a difficult day.

“Let’s try not to go for dinner with huge boners, yeah?” Alvaro murmured into Paulo’s mouth.

And Paulo thought, maybe they had time for a quick hand job; but they were in Vinovo and that would be breaking Allegri’s guidelines on the very first day of their relationship going public, so he said, “ _My_ boner is huge, yours isn’t.”

“You’re fucking rude,” Alvaro shoved Paulo aside with a loud laugh. “Fuck. Why do I love you?”

“Because you wouldn’t know how to function without me.”

“I don’t know how to function around you, either.”

Paulo smiled. Alvaro was a fucking smooth-talker when it mattered the most.

He slid his hand in Alvaro’s again as they headed out to the parking lot. They could hold hands now. Outside. In public. For everyone to see. And the feeling was incredible. It was literally a dream come true for the both of them.

\------

Dinner went by really smoothly. Just like the previous time both their families had met up six years ago, Alvaro and Paulo sat in their little corner watching everybody exchange animated conversations. Alvaro’s dad seemed to be taking it all really easy. Alvaro caught Paulo watching him occasionally – actually, more than occasionally, because Paulo’s eyes were practically glued on Alvaro’s dad for the entire time.

“Never thought I’d get jealous of my dad,” Alvaro mumbled.

“What?” was Paulo’s reply.

“Why are you so obsessed with my dad?”

“I’m not, I just,” Paulo said. And then shrugged. “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop searching for someone to be my dad.”

“I know,” Alvaro gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m trying.”

“I know,” Alvaro said again. “Paulo, there are so many people who care for you the same way your dad did. So many people. Your dad has made sure you’re well taken care of.”

Paulo smiled and dipped his head in a shy nod. He stopped watching Alvaro’s dad and instead shifted his full attention to Alvaro.

Neither of them were sure if the news of their relationship had been reported yet, but they received a mixture of approving and disapproving glances on the way to their families’ hotel even though they weren’t holding hands, so they could say they were pretty sure everyone already knew. No one tried to mob them or anything, so they were at least left in peace.

When their families were safely at the hotel, Paulo and Alvaro headed home silently. Alvaro thought, maybe now that they were alone, their chances of getting mobbed were higher. He sighed and kept his head low, entertaining himself by timing his footsteps to match Paulo’s.

And then Paulo – and then Paulo started walking more closely to Alvaro, his hand brushing a few times against Alvaro’s before he hesitantly took it in his. When Alvaro turned, he saw that Paulo had this tiny little embarrassed smile on his face, like they were out on their first date or whatever and Paulo was trying to make a move. Actually, when Alvaro thought about it, despite the seven years they’d known each other and the four months they’d been together, they hadn’t even gone for their first date. That time in the Madrid diner didn’t count.

Anyway, Paulo’s little smile grew into a grin when Alvaro grasped his hand tightly. Alvaro had just. He’d just run out of fucks to give. When he told Paulo that, Paulo burst into gentle, soothing laughter that floated so effortlessly with the night wind. It sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes.

They got home safely (and unmobbed), taking the back alleys out of habit. Alvaro only realised how thoroughly exhausted he was when they collapsed on the couch.

“Should we call Franco and Isco?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, but neither of them moved to get their phones, which were just lying on the coffee table, turned off since the afternoon. There was just this unspoken fear of turning them back on. “Use the landline,” Alvaro suggested.

“If you think I memorised Franco’s number, you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“What happened when you needed an urgent late night booty call?”

“I used my speed dial, duh.”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro shoved Paulo in the shoulder. He knew, for a matter of fact, that, “ _I’m_ the only one on your speed dial.”

Paulo burst into laughter again. “Yeah, that’s why I said I used my speed dial.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said, but fondly. He leaned over and gently kissed Paulo on the lips. “Smooth talker.”

“Learnt from the best,” Paulo whispered.

Like typical Alvaro and Paulo, they wrestled it out and eventually Alvaro lost so he had to turn on his phone to call Franco. Or Isco. Alvaro wanted to say they were still together. In a hotel bed. Or any surface where they could, you know. Bang.

He set his phone on the table as the notifications flooded in, trying not to read any of them. Most of them were messages. Some of them were Instagram tags from his teammates. A majority of them were tweets.

Alvaro swiped to ignore all of the notifications. He went straight to his contact list and tapped on Isco to call him.

There was no answer.

 _Wanna hang?_ Alvaro texted instead.

Isco’s reply only came ten minutes later. _Busy._

“Holy shit, I think they really hooked up,” Alvaro said, leading Paulo to lunge over and nearly knock the phone out of Alvaro’s hands in his excitement.

“Ask him,” he suggested.

_With Franco?_

_Yeah._

_Where?_

No reply.

 _You two fucking?_ Alvaro sent. Straightforward, just like Isco.

Another ten minutes later: _Grass is green, Morata._

“Holy fuck!” Paulo yelled.

“Shit,” Alvaro burst into laughter. Just. Just the thought of Franco and Isco _together_. It was fucking amusing. “Paulo, we fucking set them up and we didn’t even mean to!”

“Fuck, they’re like international fuck buddies,” Paulo managed to choke in between all his loud giggles. He was slumped over backwards on the couch clutching his stomach for dear life. “Fuck!”

And right then another text from Isco came in.

 _Franco doesn’t bite,_ was all it said.

“Oh, God,” Alvaro groaned. It just hit him how weird this was. It was _scarring._ “I’m never going to look at either of them the same way ever again.”

Paulo burst into _more laughter_ when he saw Isco’s latest text. He was saying something, too, but Alvaro couldn’t make out what it was because Paulo was so fucking hysterical. He literally had tears falling out his eyes. And as much as Alvaro was still trying to deal with this entire ridiculous situation, it made him so fucking happy to see Paulo this way. To see Paulo finally get some release, some relief from the constant stress he’d been putting himself under. It’d always made Alvaro happy to see Paulo happy. There had never been any occasion otherwise.

“Pau, I can’t hear what you’re saying,” Alvaro said. He felt this weird mixture of feelings. Like awe and surprise and confusion and like, disgust, for some reason. Maybe because this was actually the first time he’d pictured two of his friends actually. Actually _having sex._ “Paulo!”

Paulo just buried his face into the front of Alvaro’s shirt and laughed – or cried – into it. Alvaro rolled his eyes, but. But he let Paulo laugh it all out. Paulo was probably still reeling from all the released stress. Alvaro took his phone and opened Instagram.

Almost every single one of his teammates had posted photos with him and Paulo, along with heartfelt captions saying how proud and honoured they were to be their teammates. Isco and Franco, even, had taken time out of their _‘grass is green, Morata’_ bonding session to post the same photo of the four of them standing together. And each of these photos had at least thirty thousand likes. The one the Juventus Instagram had posted already had almost a hundred thousand likes. Alvaro couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t looking so bad. He started to like each photo on the list, reading the captions that came with them.

He moved on to his text conversations next – his friends wishing him all the best and telling him how brave he was. Some of them said that they hadn’t expected this from him, which, well. Alvaro hadn’t expected this from himself, either. The past few months had been a blur of self-discovery and it hadn’t yet trickled to everybody he knew. He took the time to reply all their messages.

It took Alvaro about a half-hour to realise that Paulo had turned on his phone, too, and was scrolling down whatever was on the screen with this really painful look on his face.

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly. Paulo didn’t respond, so Alvaro leaned over to peek at what he was reading.

Paulo was reading the comments on Juventus’ Instagram photo.

“Hey,” Alvaro said again. He tried to take the phone from Paulo, but Paulo pulled it away, his eyes glued to the screen. Alvaro used his palm to cover it. “Paulo. Hey.”

“It’s horrible,” Paulo whispered. The happy tears from earlier had transformed into heartbroken ones. “Alvi.”

“Stop reading them,” Alvaro said, his heart beginning to pound harder. It was tempting to join Paulo, but. But there had to be someone in this relationship holding their shit together, and it couldn’t be Paulo because he had always been more down-to-earth, he had always been the realist, which meant he was always the one who needlessly got hurt. “Paulo. Please.”

Paulo wrapped his fingers around Alvaro’s hand and pushed it away. But he held on to it and Alvaro let him. All the hurt Paulo had had to endure in his life was what had always made Paulo feel so alive. The hurt was what pushed Paulo forward. It guided Paulo in the right direction. Alvaro slid his fingers between Paulo’s as he opened the comments, too; because if Paulo was in this, Alvaro wanted to be in it with him.

_Fucking faggots. I’m ashamed to be a fan of this team._

_Football is a game for men, so fuck off to somewhere else._

_Shame how Juventus has let these two drag their image down the drain._

_Thought I could never trust the tabloids but they turned out to be right, how disappointing._

_So do you spend time fucking in the locker room instead of training? That’s why you’re so shit._

_Is this some dumb publicity stunt?_

_See a doctor, you two._

_The world is already horrible enough without two gays playing football._

Sure, there were some really nice comments nestled among them, but. But it was like a train wreck, the entire post was like a train wreck, it was horrible but Alvaro couldn’t stop reading.

He turned to Paulo. Paulo had already scrolled back to the photo and was gazing at it sadly, tears still streaming steadily down his cheeks. He hesitated a moment before double-tapping it. And staring at it some more. It was a photo of the both of them kissing at the end of the press conference, after they were asked to. _We are proud to have you represent us, boys,_ was the simple yet very meaningful caption.

“We look happy,” Paulo said softly.

“You make me very happy, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered back, turning to Alvaro and letting Alvaro wipe his tears. “I do?”

“You do.”

“You make me very happy, too.”

Alvaro leaned over and planted his lips gently on Paulo’s, feeling a rush of relief when Paulo responded eagerly. “I love you so much, Pau.”

“I love you, too.”

“No matter what happens. I swear.”

“You don’t have to swear.”

“I’ll always be here. Like we always have been for each other.”

“I love you so much,” Paulo sobbed. “You’re my favourite person in this entire universe.”

Alvaro smiled. “And you are mine.”

He took the phone out of Paulo’s hand as he moved in for another kiss, thankful that he was finally able to distract Paulo. He placed both their phones on the table without tearing his lips away from Paulo’s. “What do you want to do tonight?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo sighed against Alvaro’s lips before pressing his head against Alvaro’s. “Take a nice long shower.”

So they did. They spent half the time just canoodling under the hot shower stream and the other half trading hand jobs – not the usual kind, gentle encounter but more of a raw, unfiltered _desire_ both for each other and for the feeling of another kind of physicality that did not come in the form of a throbbing pain in their chests.

Paulo still seemed wide awake when they both climbed into bed smelling fresh. He grabbed his phone again and, before Alvaro could stop him, googled his own name.

Alvaro was hit by this bittersweet nostalgia when all the results that popped up had both ‘Paulo Dybala’ and ‘Alvaro Morata’ side by side in their headlines. It’d been ages since Alvaro had tried to google himself. Or tried to google Paulo. In fact, the last time was in 2009.

“Remember the last time we googled ourselves?” Alvaro asked softly.

He was glad to see a smile light up Paulo’s face. “Alvaro, we’ve really come so far.”

Alvaro reached over and closed the browser app on Paulo’s phone, making him open Instagram instead and check out all their teammates’ nice posts and captions. He made sure Paulo didn’t open the comment threads. And at the same time, he googled his and Paulo’s names and quickly browsed through each article, after twenty minutes coming up with a list of articles that didn’t say anything bad about them and texting it to Paulo. And the others with rude or sarcastic insinuations about their relationship – Alvaro pretended they didn’t exist. He was good at that. Had always been.

Paulo burst into soft laughter when he received the text, sliding his way deep under the sheets until only his head and hands were out of it. “What, you’re my filter now? I’m not a child.”

And fuck, Alvaro would gladly be Paulo’s filter for the rest of his fucking life. He could spend every day filtering the negative things from Paulo’s life. Shielding Paulo. Protecting Paulo. Just like he had always wanted to do.

He watched as Paulo started to read each article, the melancholy on his face gradually being replaced by this hopeful smile. Like this was it, this was all that mattered, despite everything that had happened; reading a summary of their day on the internet was proof that they had survived and that they were going to survive. It was the symbol of a new beginning, both for them and for the footballing world. It meant so much that the journalists were able to report their relationship in all its truth, that they could see Paulo and Alvaro as just another normal couple, yet respect their roles as representatives of both LGBT+ and the sport.

Alvaro felt pretty proud of himself. He felt proud of Paulo, watching Paulo read every single article on the list. Because after all, after everything – from the very start, all Paulo had ever wanted, all he had ever worked for, was acceptance. He was getting it; slowly but surely, Paulo was gaining all the acceptance he deserved.

Alvaro smiled when Paulo smiled, laughed when Paulo laughed, and cooed when Paulo cooed. Alvaro couldn’t tear his eyes off Paulo no matter how hard he tried.

Alvaro realised he never wanted to.

\------

Paulo’s phone lit up with a notification right as he placed it on the bedside table and prepared to go to sleep.

_Instagram: alvaromorata tagged you in a photo._

Paulo turned around. Alvaro was lying in bed with the most innocent puppy-eyed look he could muster. His phone was in his hands, but he reached behind him to place it on the bedside table. He used his eager eyes to urge Paulo to open the notification.

It was a photograph of the two of them from earlier that day at the press conference – but not that one all the articles had of them kissing. This was right after the kiss, when Alvaro and Paulo had their foreheads pressed together, telling each other ‘I love you.’ They both had this dreamy, dizzy look in their eyes that nearly made Paulo cringe at how cheesy it made them look. Alvaro’s hands were on the sides of Paulo’s head. Paulo’s hands were at the base of Alvaro’s neck. They both had equally big smiles on their faces.

_When I first met you on the 21 st of June 2009, I didn’t think that you would be the one to change my entire world. I wonder every day what I did to deserve you. Everyone dreams of meeting their soulmate one day. I was lucky enough to have mine delivered to my doorstep seven years ago. Everyone needs a best friend who sticks by them through all the tough times. I’m lucky enough to be in love with mine. I’m looking forward to this new beginning with you, the beginning of the rest of our lives. I love you._

Paulo struggled to fight back his tears, but to no avail. With shaking fingers, he double-tapped the photo, and then typed, _I love you, Alvaro, through all the good days and the bad._

He tilted his chin towards Alvaro’s phone. Alvaro picked it up and read his comment, a big bright smile lighting up his face. Lighting up the room. Lighting up Paulo’s universe.

They put their phones aside and burrowed into each other’s warmth, legs and arms tangled in one big comfortable mess. They just fit together. Just like they always had. Paulo never failed to, without any difficulty, find the nook in Alvaro’s body that fit him just right.

“G’night, love,” Alvaro whispered, thumbs blindly finding Paulo’s cheeks to wipe them dry.

“Love you,” Paulo managed to murmur before Alvaro’s strong, comfortable embrace sent him into a blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.....while writing this chapter I got really excited and amused at the thought of a possible Isco/Franco spinoff. What do you guys think? They seem to have really hit it off ;) Let me know! Maybe I'll write one.


	41. I Know I Expect Too Much, And Not Enough All At Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> So it looks like the Isco/Franco spinoff is going to happen, thanks for your comments! I would love to hear some more though, so I'll wait to see what more of you have to say before I start writing :) Thank you again.
> 
> Also, looking back at the previous chapter I realised I completely breezed over the fact that they won the Scudetto on the weekend they played against Fiorentina, which is right before the press conference. So I've tried to make it up in this chapter!
> 
> Lastly, a special thank you to [Vanessa (TheGoddessComplex)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoddessComplex/pseuds/TheGoddessComplex) for her help with the Spanish in this chapter! (Hopefully I've gotten it right, omg). 
> 
> Title is from Where Did The Party Go by Fall Out Boy.

The following day, Paulo managed to get his shit together and sit down and think retrospectively about everything that had happened over the past few days.

The news of Paulo and Alvaro coming out was all mixed up with the news of Juve winning the Scudetto, which had been determined when they’d beaten Fiorentina and Roma had beaten Napoli the day right before the press conference. Paulo was a little glad that it was all at least somewhat neutralised. Some articles even had titles like, _‘Juventus make history twice in a span of three days.’_ Paulo pounced on those, desperate to read something saying positive things about them.

Everyone had just let themselves go for that one night, after the final whistle of the Roma-Napoli match had been blown. Paulo and Alvaro had thrown themselves to the wind. Nothing mattered, not for that night. Nothing at all. It was a refreshing change from everything mattering at once.

Paulo secretly hoped that those videos of them jumping around in the dressing room weren’t going to be the last ever public images of them being happy.

Nevertheless, Paulo felt immensely proud that they had won. It was just. Just something he had never imagined himself doing. Winning the Scudetto. Winning the Scudetto _with Alvaro_. With his Alvaro. Who had scored the winning goal against Fiorentina and made it happen himself. His Alvaro. Paulo’s Alvaro. Paulo just. He loved Alvaro so fucking much. He still wasn’t completely sure this entire thing wasn’t just a really long dream. If anyone had told him seven years ago that one day he would win the Italian league trophy _with Alvaro_ , he would have laughed in their face.

But honestly, he also felt a little guilty that they had put a little drab mood on all the Scudetto celebrations. After all, the team had worked really hard to finish first after their horrible start. And Paulo and Alvaro had just gone and robbed their teammates of all the pure joy they deserved. Sure, they had celebrated wildly, but even that had subdued quickly when Paulo and Alvaro had to prepare for their press conference.

Suddenly, everything was divided into two: before coming out and after coming out. After the press conference, after the public knew the entire story behind Paulo and Alvaro’s roles in Juventus’ surge to glory – Paulo found himself teetering in the balance between hopeful and hopeless once again. The balance he knew so well but never achieved. The balance he knew he was going to spend his entire life trying to chase, each time in a completely different way.

But they had to face forward and focus on what came next – now that the Scudetto had been won, Paulo and Alvaro had to prove that they could handle the public scrutiny of their relationship.

All the pieces started to fall into place when Paulo thought about it. Suddenly, Paulo understood why Allegri had wanted to hold the press conference after their match against Fiorentina and after the Roma-Napoli match. He understood where Allegri was coming from; football was first and rather than taking the risk of the announcement affecting the result of the decisive Fiorentina game, Allegri decided to take the risk of the announcement overshadowing the match results – which it fortunately hadn’t. And because of that, Alvaro and Paulo had managed to prove themselves even before the public realised that they had to. They had been given the ‘ _we won the Scudetto anyway, so cut us some slack_ ’ trump card. They hadn’t taken away the glamour of the title win; in fact, they’d added to it, they’d proven that despite everything that was happening, the Juve team was capable of glory. They were one step ahead.

Paulo was once again left in awe at all the unwavering support everyone was gracing them with. The risks everyone was willing to take for them. The fact that everyone was willing to share this piece of club history with the both of them.

Well, almost everyone.

The days between the press conference and Juve’s next match against Carpi passed in a blur.

But not because they passed by so quickly – because every single day was filled with endless mayhem. Paulo and Alvaro woke up to thousands of notifications every morning, most of which they ignored. Friends and acquaintances started to call them, the latter showing less support than the former. When they went out on the street – together, because honestly, neither of them dared to go anywhere without the other – they found more disgusted glances thrown at them than the usual friendly ones. Paulo could’ve sworn he saw an old man cross the street just to avoid them.

On Friday morning when they headed out for training they found the front hood of Alvaro’s car scratched with the words ‘Regresa al Madrid, maricón.’ And on the driver’s door, in a completely different, smaller set of handwriting, was the word ‘gilipollas.’

Paulo saw it before Alvaro did. He desperately tried to keep Alvaro from seeing it by starting to drag him towards Paulo’s car instead, quickly saying some random nonsense about how he remembered Alvaro’s gas was almost empty (even though he knew it wasn’t), but.

But Alvaro had already seen it. He froze in place, car remote key already in the air and thumb hovering over the button.

“Hey,” Paulo said, anyway, still trying to drag Alvaro in the other direction. “Let’s take my car. Alvi.”

Alvaro just turned to Paulo with this absolutely devastated look on his face. Tears started to pool in his eyes, and God, fuck, Paulo knew how Alvaro _hated_ anyone seeing him cry and if Alvaro had any control of himself at all, he would have been running back inside.

So Paulo hooked his arm in Alvaro’s and, despite the fact that Alvaro’s feet were practically glued to the ground, pulled Alvaro until they were standing in the hallway again.

And then Alvaro started crying, and it wasn’t even the kind of soft cry that always let Paulo know that Alvaro was going to be fine, that he just needed to let it out. It was loud and desperate and like Alvaro was in complete shock. He slid to the ground, sobbing and gasping, pulling Paulo along with him.

“Hey,” Paulo whispered, arms wrapped tightly around Alvaro in a bid to get him to stop shaking. He ran his hands up and down Alvaro’s back. It broke his heart to see Alvaro this way. To know that. That Alvaro was like this _because of Paulo._ “Hey.”

“I’m so tired, Paulo,” Alvaro said, his voice so thick Paulo could barely make out the words.

Paulo’s heart fell. He was tired, too. But he would willingly be tired for the rest of his life if it meant he could have Alvaro, if it meant he could wake up to Alvaro’s face every morning. He felt tears falling out the sides of his eyes and moved his face so they wouldn’t land on Alvaro’s shoulder. “Alvi, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Alvaro breathed. “No. No. I didn’t mean that it’s your fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you, it’s just,” Alvaro sobbed. “Why does the world have to be like this?”

Paulo pushed his chin into the crook of Alvaro’s neck. Alvaro had always had a pessimistic outlook towards the world. Paulo sometimes wondered if Alvaro had been one of those ‘emo’ teens before Paulo had met him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Paulo, I just want this to end. I want this to end.”

“I’m sorry, Alvi,” it was Paulo’s turn to sob. He was just. Just so helpless. He had no idea how to help Alvaro. If he could _ever_ help Alvaro. He wanted all this hate to end, too. But not if it meant that _he and Alvaro_ had to end.

“Pau, no. Please. I’m sorry. I don’t mean that it’s your fault. I love you so much, Paulo, I love you.”

“I don’t know what to do, Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

“Me, neither,” Alvaro wrapped his arms more tightly around Paulo, and Paulo felt like. Like Alvaro was physically putting Paulo’s pieces back together. “Paulo. They don’t want me here.”

“It’s just one person.” Actually, two people. But Paulo hoped Alvaro hadn’t noticed.

“I don’t belong here,” Alvaro continued. And then he began to cry again. “Fuck, Paulo, shit, what if – what if Madrid doesn’t want me either? What if I have – I have nowhere to go?”

“Alvi, don’t say that,” Paulo whispered. He couldn’t bear the thought himself. _He_ didn’t belong in Turin, either. And it wasn’t as if he could just give up everything and go back to Argentina. Alvaro at least had Real Madrid to possibly count on. Paulo had nothing. “I’ll roam the earth with you,” he suggested, just. Just to put a smile on Alvaro’s face.

It worked. “Yeah?” Alvaro asked. “Aren’t you supposed to continue playing so you have money to support the both of us?”

“I don’t want to play anymore if the game doesn’t want you.”

Alvaro sighed. He pushed his face into the crook of Paulo’s neck. “Paulo,” he whispered, but didn’t continue.

“Yeah?”

“Am I being selfish?” Alvaro continued after a long pause. “By wanting you?”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. He pulled out of the hug – with much difficulty, because Alvaro had a death grip on him – and held Alvaro with his palms sliding under Alvaro’s ears. He pressed his forehead against Alvaro’s. “I want you, too. Don’t you forget that. Don’t you _ever dare_ to forget that.”

Alvaro smiled, but it was just an upward twitch of his lips that didn’t make it to his eyes before he closed them. His shoulders heaved as he gave a little choking sob, like he was desperately trying to hold himself together, but failing.

Paulo closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly against Alvaro’s. He couldn’t remember a day he hadn’t wanted Alvaro. He couldn’t remember what it was like not wanting Alvaro as much as he did. He didn’t pull away from the kiss even when Alvaro’s tears landed on his lips – or, Alvaro didn’t let him. Alvaro was crying silently and he was grabbing on so hard to Paulo’s biceps he was going to leave bruises but at that point, neither of them cared.

Deep down inside, Alvaro was still the same – despite the fact that Alvaro’s life had changed so rapidly over the last four to five months, Alvaro was essentially still the same young boy. All his hesitation, his internalised phobia that he was going to ruin everything, his refusal to trod too deep for fear of ruining Paulo’s entire life – it was all still there. Alvaro still thought this was wrong. He still thought that it was wrong to love Paulo.

And just knowing that, just knowing that it caused Alvaro so much pain to be in love with Paulo, yet he chose to continue – it both touched Paulo and tore him apart.

“I love you,” Paulo said softly, just. Just as a reminder.

“I love you, too.”

“We…we should go or we’ll be late,” Paulo said. He decided to get outside and cover the car up before Alvaro went out. “I’ll get the car cover. We’ll get someone to take care of it later. Yeah?”

“I don’t want to go outside,” Alvaro whispered.

“Alvi, we have to get to training.”

“I can’t,” Alvaro said, breaking down in sobs again. “I can’t go.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said again. “Football first.”

He let Alvaro cry it all out, now in his usual soft little sobs that almost sounded calm. It made Paulo feel relieved because now he knew Alvaro was going to be okay. Alvaro just needed to get it all out of him and then he would stand up and face the world just like he always did. So Paulo just sat and waited.

He waited until Alvaro finally mustered the courage to look up at him and say, softly, “Okay. Let’s go, I’ll, um. I’ll help you cover the car.”

“Take the back,” Paulo said as they got outside. He opened the cover and passed one end to Alvaro.

“Don’t I always?” Alvaro mumbled, and Paulo was confused for a brief moment before he _realised._

“Alvaro!” he whispered urgently. They were out in the fucking street and Alvaro was making fucking dirty jokes. “What the fuck!”

And Alvaro was laughing softly to himself and Paulo wasn’t sure to continue being relieved or just. Just embarrassed. Or confused. But the sight of the smile on Alvaro’s face put a similar one on Paulo’s. Alvaro was probably just so stressed he was almost delirious. Just like Paulo was when he got stressed. This was where they were the most similar.

“You can try taking the back one of these days,” Alvaro said tenderly.

Paulo smiled. They hadn’t done anything like _that_ for a really long time. Which Paulo didn’t mind at all. After all, their relationship wasn’t solely based on physical affection. Paulo could list a million other ways he and Alvaro could love each other.

Trying to ignore the fact that it was practically a plea from Alvaro for Paulo to fuck him for the first time that appeared _literally out of nowhere_ , Paulo whispered, “Maybe for good luck.”

And Alvaro just. He fucking _beamed_ at Paulo, like he’d just told Alvaro he won some random trophy and Alvaro was going to display it on their fireplace forever. They finished covering the car and headed a little further down the street to Paulo’s car, holding hands out of defiance.

They received a stern warning from Allegri when they got to Vinovo. But the angry look on his face morphed into something more concerned when they said they’d been harassed. He offered to help them report it, but Paulo and Alvaro decided not to. They accepted it when Allegri said that they wouldn’t be spared from punishment. They stayed back after training had ended to complete their ten extra rounds.

After they were done, they found Paul and Simone waiting for them in the locker room.

“Hey, what happened?” Paul asked as Paulo and Alvaro stepped inside. “We heard someone scratched your car.”

“Uh, yeah,” Alvaro said, throwing Paulo a quick glance. “It’s, um. It’s nothing.”

“What’s it say?” Simone asked.

Alvaro recited the words to them, followed by their translation. It felt like a punch to Paulo’s gut when he realised the image of those scratches was probably burnt in Alvaro’s mind forever.

Paul and Simone just sat there with this really dumbstruck look on their faces.

“What the fuck?” Simone eventually said. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Yeah, just,” Alvaro shrugged. “Whatever.”

“You won the fucking Scudetto for us!” Simone continued.

“I didn’t. We all won it together.”

“Yeah, but you scored that fucking goal and – fuck, Alvaro, don’t argue with me! You won it and how dare they say something like that?”

“Whatever,” Alvaro said again, this time in a shaky whisper. He turned on his heel and went to his locker with his head down.

“Sorry,” Paulo mouthed at the both of them, who nodded. He went after Alvaro and sat next to him. “Hey. Alvi.”

Alvaro cleared his throat, presumably to get rid of the lump in it. And then he said, “Paulo, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Paulo asked. For one frightening moment, he thought Alvaro was going to end things.

Alvaro seemed to realise how he sounded, too. “No, I just,” Alvaro sighed. “I know. I know you feel like you don’t belong here, either. Because after all, your home is across the ocean. And I’m sorry that this morning…this morning, I only cared about myself. I didn’t think about how you’d feel. And I’m sorry.”

“No, hey,” Paulo whispered. He moved closer to Alvaro and took his hand. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Alvaro whispered, and he looked like he was about to cry and Paul and Simone were still sitting there and so Paulo put his thumbs below Alvaro’s eyes to stop his tears from falling. “Paulo. I love you. I don’t care where my home is as long as I have you. Because you’re my home.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled, and fuck, he was gonna cry, too. Alvaro stuck his thumbs below Paulo’s eyes. They just sat there with their hands on each other’s faces and they probably looked dumb as fuck and, shit, Paulo hoped Paul and Simone weren’t looking. “Me, too. My home is wherever you are. It always has been.”

Alvaro smiled and leaned over to kiss Paulo. And in that instant, Paulo knew everything was going to be okay. Paulo felt like a cliché, but. But he knew everything was going to be okay.

Paul and Simone invited them out for dinner, so they all went, old FIFA gang style. And then they went back to Paulo’s place and the three of them got the game set up while Paulo called the car company to come get Alvaro’s car. He returned to the couch to find that he’d been put on Alvaro’s side.

“You don’t wanna be my teammate anymore?” he asked Paul, sadly.

“Fuck, ask Alvaro, he wouldn’t stop glaring at me. Fucking possessive boyfriend.”

Paulo laughed. Alvaro’s gaze was fixed straight ahead but Paulo was sure he was only pretending not to hear. He poked his head between Alvaro’s arms and gently pecked Alvaro on the lips. “I love my fucking possessive boyfriend,” he whispered.

The _biggest_ smile broke out on Alvaro’s face as he distracted himself with kissing Paulo back, pausing in between pecks to gaze lovingly at Paulo.

“What the fuck,” was all Simone and Paul said, coordinated, when they were done fiddling around with their team and turned to check if Paulo and Alvaro were done and found that they were still making out.

Alvaro gave a little giggle against Paulo’s lips and Paulo was just. Just so relieved that Alvaro was smiling and trouble-free. “They’re jealous,” Alvaro said.

“What,” Paul said. “I’m not jealous, I can make out with whoever I want. C’mon, Simo, let’s make out.”

“What the fuck? No.”

“What, you don’t want to make out with me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why _would I_?”

“Is it because I’m French? Fuck, Simo, why are you so fucking racist?”

“It’s not because you’re French!” Simone said helplessly. “Morata! Dybala! Some help here would be great!”

Paulo and Alvaro burst into laughter. Paul really entertained himself well by making others flustered. They turned to see Paul making stupid kissy faces at Simone while Simone just. Just looked utterly helpless. God, Paulo loved his friends for constantly trying to make sure he and Alvaro were protected, happy, and entertained.

Paul eventually stopped his antics once they started the game, but he and Simone ended up being thoroughly thrashed by Paulo and Alvaro. All three times. At the end of it Alvaro kissed Paulo again instead of high-fiving him.

“Guess we all know who were the ones carrying their team,” Alvaro laughed.

“Fuck you,” Simone said. “It’s just ‘cause it’s you two. It’s not fair. You two are unbeatable.”

“We are,” Paulo said softly, in awe.

“Well,” Paul put the controller down and stood up. “We should go. Gym in the morning.”

“Yeah, plus you two look like you’re gonna start making out again and I would prefer to be really far away when it starts.”

Paulo and Alvaro brought them to the door and watched them put their shoes on.

“Hey,” Paulo said before they could leave. “Um, I just wanna say. Sorry. You know, that we put such a damper on all the Scudetto stuff.”

Alvaro nodded, but Paul and Simone just. Just stared at him.

“What the fuck kind of nonsense is that?” Paul finally asked. “You didn’t put a damper on anything. Everyone’s so happy. Now we have two things to be happy about.”

“Yeah, no, it’s just,” Paulo shrugged. “You guys are getting the bad comments, too.”

“Honestly?” Simone said. “Fuck them. They can say what they want. We’ve gotten so good at ignoring all the haters after all these years of doing just that, don’t you think? It’s all second nature. And I, for one, don’t give a fuck. You two are amazing. You two can be happy now and I am going to be happy for you no matter what people say.”

“And it’s good, the timing,” Paul added. “The Scudetto means so much to fans. And we’ve won it, and it far overweighs whatever hate they can throw your way. It practically gives them no excuse for the hate. It’s all good, trust us.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said softly.

“Promise,” Simone smiled. “Everyone’s just so happy. Don’t let those people get to you. Yeah?”

Paulo nodded and smiled, and the smile didn’t feel forced this time. “Thanks, you two.”

They both beamed at Paulo and Alvaro before walking down the street to Paul’s car. Paulo turned to Alvaro, who broke into yet another smile when he met Paulo’s gaze.

“You good?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered.

“You’re better? From…from this morning?”

Alvaro’s determined gaze faltered just a tiny bit. He nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. He moved his hand to cup Alvaro’s cheek. “I love you so much.”

Alvaro smiled, a tiny little upturn of his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently on Paulo’s, and. And Paulo felt fireworks shoot from his heart. “I love you, too.”

“What should we do now?”

“Make out,” was Alvaro’s very simple answer.

And so they did.

Paulo couldn’t stop himself from pulling away every few moments just to see the smile on Alvaro’s face. He earned a bigger one each time he did it, all the way across the living room and into the bedroom, until Alvaro eventually caved and broke into a little fit of giggles.

“Why the fuck you looking at me like that?” he shoved Paulo in the shoulder.

“Just wanna see you smile.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro beamed, just for the sake of it.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. And before they could climb into bed, he tugged at Alvaro’s sleeve. “Hey. Alvi. Remember on Valentines’ Day, you asked me if we would ever get to hold hands in the street?”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said again. “Yeah.”

“Wanna do that right now?”

“Right now? But it’s like, eight pm.”

“Exactly.”

The biggest, brightest grin spread its way across Alvaro’s face as it hit him. It didn’t matter what other people said. The matter of fact was: they could do what they wanted now. Even at eight in the evening on a Friday.

Alvaro took Paulo’s hand and quite literally dragged him out of the house, right through the door even though they weren’t in their jeans, only shorts. But the early May weather wasn’t that bad. Besides, Alvaro and Paulo didn’t even have to _care_ if anyone knew it was them anymore.

Alvaro spent the entire walk, the entire thirty minutes of it, smiling stupidly to himself. He spent it jabbering away at Paulo about completely random things. He spent it grinning at random people on the street who gave them friendly looks.

Paulo spent the entire walk watching the myriad of emotions that were displayed on Alvaro’s face; a thirty-minute show of emotions that did not consist of sadness.

They stopped for photos when fans spotted them. Everything seemed. Everything seemed so _normal_. Paulo wanted to hang on to this. He wanted to hang on to every sliver of this normalcy.

But he didn’t know how long it would last, so he just hung on to the only constant in his life since 2009. He hung on to his Alvaro.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro hoped that their next game against Carpi would be a success so they could give the haters a ‘fuck you.’

But it was far from it.

Alvaro got substituted at half-time. Paulo didn’t play a single minute.

They knew it wasn’t their fault. They knew it wasn’t Allegri’s fault, either. After all, football came first, and whatever that was happening in their relationship or how their relationship was affecting Juve as a club didn’t concern what Allegri eventually decided to do, including resting players. It was just unfortunate that people would misinterpret all their innocent intentions.

Alvaro didn’t get booed when the board was raised to show he was substituted off during half-time – rather, there was this subdued atmosphere around the stadium, like everyone had suddenly forgotten how to clap or cheer. Simone was extra friendly with him as he was heading out on the pitch, in plain view of everyone and all the cameras, but. But the noise from the crowd didn’t come back until several minutes later.

Alvaro collapsed on the bench next to Paulo with a loud sigh.

“We’re fucked,” he said.

“Aren’t we winning?” Paulo asked, confused. They _were_ winning. By one goal.

“No, us,” Alvaro gestured between them. “ _We_ are fucked.”

“Why?” Paulo reached over and grabbed Alvaro’s hand so he would stop waving it and attracting needless camera attention. “What’s wrong?”

Alvaro shrugged. He didn’t say another word throughout the entire second half, even when Simone scored. Even when Paulo slid his hand in Alvaro’s and held it for the entire forty-five minutes. He was silent all the way to the bus, where Paul asked him to smile and Alvaro finally cracked a little smile for everyone.

“We’re going to be okay,” Paulo whispered. He had the window seat and he could see all the journalists and their cameramen gathering in a little crowd below him. He very pointedly planted a kiss on Alvaro’s lips before taking his hand again. “Alvaro. You promised me we’re going to be okay. And now I’m doing the same. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“You know how you asked me how I knew we were gonna be okay?” Alvaro finally spoke, and God, Paulo had never been more relieved to hear his voice. “So, how do _you_ know we’re going to be okay?”

“Because I love you so fucking much, Alvaro, and there is nothing in this entire fucking world I wouldn’t do just to make sure we’re okay.”

Alvaro leaned over and pressed a kiss on Paulo’s cheek. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Will you give me that shower blowjob you still owe me?”

“Fuck you,” Paulo said. It always amazed him how easily Alvaro got over things. How trigger-happy he was. How easily Paulo could distract Alvaro, how easily he could make Alvaro think everything was okay. Fuck, Alvaro was one of the most naïve people Paulo knew and Paulo loved it, he loved the childish smile Alvaro was able to conjure so easily.

“Yeah, I’m asking you to. With your mouth.”

Paulo shoved him so hard he almost fell into the aisle, his laughter ringing throughout the bus. It was music to Paulo’s ears.

Alvaro didn’t stop blabbering his face off all the way home and Paulo didn’t remember ever being this in love with him.

\------

Allegri made no move to separate Paulo and Alvaro on their next away trip to Verona. They sat together on the train and the bus, alighted together at the hotel, greeted endearing fans of theirs together – and getting the much-needed relief at the thought that they still had support even three hours away – and went to their shared room together. They went down for dinner together, sat together, and headed back up to their room together. They were practically superglued together.

Paulo pushed Alvaro right through the door when it was open, and then took Alvaro’s bag from him and dumped it aside before continuing to push Alvaro until the back of his knees hit one of the beds and he fell backwards onto it, Paulo landing on top of him.

“What?” Alvaro asked, breathless for some unknown reason. Maybe because Paulo was fucking sitting on him.

“What time is it?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro took a quick glance at the clock. “Nine-thirty.”

“We have twenty three hours and fifteen minutes until the match tomorrow.”

“Uh…yeah?” _Why do you have to be sitting on me to tell me that?_

“Remember the rule that said no sexual encounters at least eighteen hours before any match? I think this is the loophole.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Alvaro said when he realised what Paulo was going after. “Yeah, but I’m not – I’m not. Hard.”

Paulo slid downwards until he was sitting on Alvaro’s crotch. He grinded a little against it. “You will be,” he whispered.

“Fuck,” Alvaro squeezed his eyes shut and flung an arm across them because. Because Paulo was boring holes in him with how intense his green eyes were. They were gleaming suggestively, almost forest green with how dilated Paulo’s pupils were and how dim the room was. They were eager and loving and they were everything Alvaro had ever known and loved. Alvaro thrust his hips upwards. “Fuck. Paulo.”

Paulo ran his hands up and down Alvaro’s chest, stopping in the middle, resting on Alvaro’s sternum. “You wanna?”

“For good luck?” Alvaro asked without removing his arm.

“Fuck you,” Paulo gave him a loving shove. And then, “Yeah.”

Alvaro laughed softly. He removed his arm from his face and cupped Paulo’s cheeks with his hands. “’Kay, come here,” he whispered, pulling Paulo’s face down until their lips met.

He felt Paulo pour his everything into the kiss; after all, this was the first time since all the publicity shit happened that they were actually properly getting down to it, not counting the hurried hand jobs. Alvaro did the same, lips parting to allow Paulo’s tongue to wander like his hands were doing. He wriggled his way up the bed until his head was resting on the pillows, dragging Paulo with him because Paulo was still wrapped around him like a baby bear.

Paulo gave a loud gasp when Alvaro undid his pants and reached inside to cup his dick. He buckled against Alvaro’s chest, his hands jamming themselves in Alvaro’s hair, as Alvaro started to stroke him with one hand and try to take off his trousers with the other. 

His lips didn’t leave Alvaro’s as he started to unbutton Alvaro’s shirt. They only parted for a mere second when Alvaro wriggled out of it and helped Paulo out of his, and then another second when Paulo’s hands were shaking too hard to undo Alvaro’s trousers and Alvaro had to hold them and tell Paulo that it was okay, that everything was okay.

They took it slow from then, as Paulo regained his composure and his hands stopped shaking after he ran them up and down Alvaro’s bare abdomen, over and over and over again. And Alvaro just. He melted under Paulo’s touch. He always had. Ever since their very first time all the way back in 2010 in Córdoba, Paulo’s touch had always sent Alvaro into a hopeless, incoherent mess.

Alvaro kicked his jeans off and winced when Paulo sat on him again, because this time they were both naked and fuck, Paulo was fucking rock hard and he was rubbing his dick along Alvaro’s length, a look of absolute _hunger_ on his face as he watched their skin slide together.

“You want me to, _shit,_ ” Alvaro whispered, interrupted by Paulo suddenly giving one hard thrust. “Shit. Blow you?”

“No,” Paulo whispered, eyes still eagerly watching what was happening between them. His hand moved to wrap itself around both their cocks, and it was so tiny that it could barely cover the entire circumference. He slid his hips back and forth, and fucking hell, it sent shivers up Alvaro’s spine, the sight and the _feeling_ of them rubbing up against each other in the tiny circle between Paulo’s fingers. “Let’s do it like this.”

And he began to thrust his hips in a new rhythm as he bent over and pressed his open lips against Alvaro’s. His finger occasionally moved to brush over Alvaro’s slit and Alvaro would strain to lift his back off the bed but Paulo wouldn’t let him, pushing him back down with his free hand and shoving his tongue in Alvaro’s mouth, and. And wow, Alvaro got it. Alvaro got why Paulo liked being held down. It was fucking hot.

Paulo sat back on his heels when they both began to leak precome. He licked his lips as he watched the liquid dribble over the edge of his dick and on to Alvaro’s, a mixture forming. He thrust his hips harder, the circle of his fingers and Alvaro’s dick providing him with the friction he needed – providing _Alvaro_ with the friction he needed. Alvaro didn’t even have to move. He didn’t need to do a single piece of work. Paulo was doing it all.

But Paulo’s thighs got tired after a while, evidently, because he stopped thrusting and instead used his hand to jerk the both of them off. He stopped to lick the precome off his fingers and. And fuck. Alvaro was so fucking close. He could watch Paulo do this all day, he could watch Paulo licking his fingers and he would fucking come without even needing to touch his dick. He loved what Paulo was doing to him. He loved that Paulo was so in control. Because Paulo had always been the one who was more in control of his life than anyone else Alvaro knew. It just. It just fit, seeing Paulo in control.

Alvaro reached up and caressed Paulo’s face with his hand. “Come down here,” he whispered. “I wanna taste it, too.”

Paulo gladly obliged, with a smile on his face. He slid his tongue between Alvaro’s open lips and swallowed the gasp that Alvaro produced. He squeezed his hand tightly around both their dicks and gave another hard thrust, gobbling up that gasp, too.

“You ready?” he whispered into Alvaro’s mouth.

“Go for it,” Alvaro whispered back.

Paulo’s lips surrounded Alvaro’s one more time, muffling the moan that came out of it when he started to move his hips again, half grinding and half sliding their wet cocks all over one another. His hand moved to grab Alvaro’s shoulder, his fingers turning white from what Alvaro could see of them. He pressed his head against Alvaro’s and Alvaro’s world was suddenly flooded again by jade green. Frantic, desperate, passionate jade green. Alvaro felt this amazing sensation ride its way through all his veins. Something that made Alvaro feel like he was floating. Like he was floating his way to heaven. Which, honestly, he wouldn’t mind, not if Paulo was with him.

Alvaro moved his hands up and down Paulo’s bare back, feeling every contour of his muscles. Of his shoulder blades. He felt Paulo’s muscles move as he thrusted and jerked, and fuck. Alvaro squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to lick Paulo all over his fucking body.

“Open your eyes,” Paulo demanded in a harsh breath. “Look at me. Alvaro. Alvaro. I’m gonna come.”

Alvaro’s eyes popped open immediately. They were met by the faltering gaze of Paulo, still frantically trying to hold Alvaro’s eyes even though Paulo was practically gasping for breath right then. His hips were stuttering but not stopping, his hand curling more tightly, giving the both of them more friction, more pleasure. And behind the adoring look in his eyes was the same determination, the fierce resolve to deliver the pleasure both he and Alvaro were seeking. The same determination that Alvaro saw in Paulo no matter what Paulo sought out to do. The same determination that made Alvaro fall so hopelessly in love with Paulo every single day, over and over again.

When Paulo ran his thumb over Alvaro’s slit again, fuck, Alvaro grasped his shoulders so tightly he was sure he left hand-shaped bruises all over them. He gave a little whimper, unable to help it because he was so fucking _weak_ for Paulo. For Paulo to make him come. For Paulo to do whatever the hell he wanted to do with Alvaro.

And then. And then Paulo came, after a final thrust of his hips and a tightening of his fingers, thumb brushing over both their heads again. It continued brushing over Alvaro’s slit, over and over again, squeezing and tugging and grinding weakly, until Alvaro came, too, their come mixing quickly on Alvaro’s abdomen, accelerated by Paulo’s eager hand. And Alvaro. Alvaro saw literal sparks fly across his vision. He lifted his hips off the bed again and this time succeeded, weakly lifting Paulo higher. He couldn’t get enough. Alvaro couldn’t get enough. He wanted to get closer to Paulo, he didn’t care that they were pressed so tightly together that an ant would suffocate. He wanted to be closer. He wanted every single atom of Paulo’s being.

Paulo gave a soft cry into Alvaro’s mouth, his hips halting as he buckled over into Alvaro, face moving to rest in the crook of Alvaro’s neck, watching his come spill all over Alvaro. And Alvaro’s come spill all over himself. Alvaro took a peek and, fuck. It was fucking hot. Paulo was spreading the milky liquid all over both their dicks. Alvaro could hear the _sound_ it was making. He was suddenly hyper-sensitised. Besides that sound, he could hear his heart thumping in his ears. His blood running through his veins. The short breaths Paulo was taking. He could feel every single drop of sweat on his body. On Paulo’s body. He could feel the come cooling on his v-line. He could feel Paulo gently running his lips down Alvaro’s collarbone. He smelled the all-too-familiar scent of sex, the scent of the pleasure only Paulo was able to give him. He smelled the humidity of the room, and felt it, too, like a warm blanket suddenly falling over them.

“Fuck,” Alvaro whispered as Paulo gave a weak thrust of his hips, just for the fun of it. “Shit. Pau.”

“That was so fucking good.”

“You are so fucking good.”

Paulo kissed a trail up Alvaro’s neck, across his stubble, and on his lips. “ _You_ are so fucking good.”

Alvaro let himself fall into the taste of Paulo’s lips for a few moments. They tasted like home.

Paulo’s hand suddenly appeared next to Alvaro’s lips, covered in a thin layer of come. He held Alvaro’s gaze as he stuck them in his mouth and sucked on them, and shit, Alvaro was. Alvaro was totally going to have another erection.

He chased after Paulo’s fingers as he removed them from his mouth, only stopped by Paulo when he jabbed at Alvaro's chin with his free hand. His other hand reappeared soon after, smeared with another serving of come. He watched eagerly as Alvaro sucked on them, a thoroughly satisfied look on his face. Satisfied with his orgasm, probably. And satisfied with what he’d _done_ to Alvaro, made Alvaro a shaking, exhausted, weak mess.

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered as their lips met again.

Paulo smiled. He wiggled his way higher up Alvaro’s body, his thighs still straddling Alvaro. “I love you, too. I love you so fucking much, Alvaro, I don’t even know how to put it in words.”

“I know,” Alvaro murmured. “’Cause I feel like that, too.”

“We’re gonna kick ass against Verona,” Paulo said softly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said.

Paulo nuzzled his head into the crook of Alvaro’s neck. Alvaro just. Alvaro felt so peaceful. He felt this strange lucidity, like he was floating about in life yet he had complete control. He knew exactly what to do.

He pressed his lips against the top of Paulo’s head. Paulo was the one who gave him that peace. Paulo had always been the one. Paulo just took away all of his worries, like he was some kind of magician. And Alvaro felt a kind of love for him that he had never felt before. It felt like a worm burrowing its way through Alvaro’s heart. But not all the way through. Just halfway through, just a tiny hole enough for it to be warm and live there.

And that tiny worm was Paulo, the tiny worm was _Paulo_ and Alvaro was going to let him live there forever.

\------

They did not, in fact, kick ass against Verona.

They lost their first game in twenty-five, and they had no excuse. They’d won the Scudetto and they’d begun to slack off, and that was their only reason.

Paulo scored the consolation goal in the 2-1 loss right at the final whistle. He was tired. He was disappointed. He was so upset he was practically numb. After all the talk of good timing, this loss came at the worst time possible.

Paulo and Alvaro didn’t utter a single word to each other all the way home. Not when they got back to the hotel room; neither of them even bothered calling for dibs on the shower or the soap. Not when they rolled into the same bed, curled up together like little hamsters; no ‘good night,’ no ‘I love you.’ Not when they sat together on the bus, hand in hand, to the train station. Not on the train, the entire three hours back; there was no jabbering from Alvaro, no random proclamations of love from Paulo, just hand-holding. Not on the bus back to Vinovo. Not when they were dismissed back home.

Alvaro was in the kitchen making some sandwiches – his favourite comfort snack – when Paulo took his phone.

It wasn’t to spy on Alvaro because God, Paulo would never do that. He just. He just didn’t want Alvaro to be upset.

He opened Instagram. He knew for a fact that Alvaro had posted a photo on the train on the way back from Verona, a photo of the team with the caption, _Heads up, that’s what champions do. Great goal @paulodybala my love._ Paulo had seen it and liked it.

Paulo took a deep breath to brace himself as he clicked open the comments.

He read through every single one of them and deleted the bad ones. Even if it meant he had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying. Paulo read every single one of them.

 _Lol, is it because you two wasted all your energy fucking?_ Swipe, delete.

 _The fact that you’re roommates explains everything so fucking well, you know?_ Swipe, delete.

 _Bet you two had your heads up too the night before._ Swipe, delete.

Alvaro came back outside with a plate piled high with sandwiches. He set it on the table and grabbed one himself before plopping down next to Paulo. He sat silently, lazily scrolling through the TV channels and munching noisily.

 _Fucking gays._ Swipe, delete.

 _Actual proof that gays don’t belong in football._ Swipe, delete.

 _Are you actually surprised at this result, given the fact that you two spend all your time screwing?_ Swipe, delete.

“What are you doing?” Alvaro asked quietly, the first words he’d spoken since Verona.

“Instagram,” Paulo replied.

“Where’s your phone?”

“I left it inside and I’m too lazy to get it,” Paulo lied. He was sitting on his phone.

Alvaro went quiet again, shifting his focus back to the TV. He grabbed another sandwich.

 _You two made me hate Juventus. I hope you’re happy._ Swipe, delete.

 _I bet Morata’s the top._ Swipe, delete.

 _How does it feel like being screwed in the ass by fucking Hellas Verona? Oh wait, I think you already know how it feels._ Swipe, delete.

 _Quit football, faggots._ Swipe, delete.

 _Please kill yourselves._ Swipe, del –

Paulo’s phone suddenly vibrated really loudly under his butt.

“Hey, isn’t that your phone?” Alvaro asked. He reached over and dug under Paulo until he got Paulo’s phone. He poked his head over and looked at the phone in Paulo’s hands. “Why are you using mine?”

He caught Paulo as Paulo was deleting the ‘please kill yourselves’ comment. And Paulo could almost _feel_ Alvaro’s heart falling to the ground. He knew Alvaro wasn’t someone who paid much attention to the comments on his photos. He knew Alvaro was good at pretending the bad things didn’t exist. But Paulo couldn’t live with it. He couldn’t live with Alvaro opening his comments one day and seeing. Seeing all of _this._

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered, his voice suddenly lost. Which made him realise, fuck. He was crying. Those fucking comments had made him fucking _cry._

“What are you doing?” Alvaro asked again. He sounded calm. Which made Paulo scared, like he was gonna flare up or something.

“Deleting comments.”

“Why?”

Paulo had no answer. He knew Alvaro was fiercely independent. Alvaro liked knowing that he had control over his life, even though he might not.

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly. He slid closer to Paulo and wrapped his arms around Paulo. “Hey. Why are you crying? Pau, please don’t cry.”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Paulo sobbed.

“I’m not mad at you. Why are you deleting comments on my photo?”

“’Cause they’re mean.”

“How mean?”

“Really, really mean.”

“So you’re my filter now?”

“Well, you’re my filter. I have to do my part, too.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. “Hey. You don’t have to do this. I’ll just not read any of them.”

“I don’t even want them to be there,” Paulo said. “Alvaro, they’re saying. They’re saying horrible things and I don’t want you to be upset, okay? I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be sad.”

Alvaro smiled a sad smile. “Paulo, I think…I think we just have to learn. We have to learn to shut them out. Not care about what they say because we’re _us,_ Paulo, we’re _unbeatable_ and as long as we know that about ourselves, it doesn’t matter what other people think about us.”

“Really? Yeah?” Paulo asked. Alvaro seemed so calm. Paulo realised how much he’d grown over the short period of five months since he’d gotten with Paulo. It made Paulo so indescribably proud.

“Yeah,” Alvaro promised. “Now stop reading them if they make you cry too, okay?”

“It’s worth it if it doesn’t make you upset.”

“Seeing you cry makes me upset, too,” Alvaro pointed out.

Paulo sighed. He couldn’t help but give in to Alvaro. “Okay, can I at least delete this one?”

Alvaro nodded, so Paulo deleted the ‘please kill yourselves.’ And then he saw another mean one and it was so easy just to swipe and tap so Paulo deleted that one, too. And the one after that. And the one after that. And he got lost in the chain of comments again for the next two minutes before he realised that Alvaro was doing nothing to stop him.

When he turned to Alvaro he saw this. This ridiculously fond look on Alvaro’s face. His gaze was alternating between the phone and Paulo’s face, and. And Alvaro looked so fucking _happy._ He looked happy and touched that Paulo would actually do this for him.

“I love you,” he said adoringly.

Paulo smiled, and it felt real. “I love you, too.”

Alvaro took the phone out of Paulo’s hands and placed it on the table together with Paulo’s phone. He wrapped Paulo up in a big hug again and gently kissed his cheek. “You are the best boyfriend in the world,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Paulo said. “How could it be when you’re the best boyfriend?”

And that made Alvaro launch an entire explanation about how they could both be best boyfriends because in Paulo’s world, Paulo wasn’t in the running and in Alvaro’s world, Alvaro wasn’t in the running, and so they could both be best boyfriends, and fuck, Paulo didn’t even understand but he nodded along anyway because he knew Alvaro was only trying to distract him. And it was working. Paulo was distracted by the look of pure affection in Alvaro’s eyes.

Paulo went to shower and came back outside to be greeted by another Instagram notification: _alvaromorata tagged you in a photo_.

Paulo opened it. It was a photo of them just a half-hour ago, all cuddled up on the couch. Paulo was looking through his phone and Alvaro had slid his head under Paulo’s arm to get Paulo’s attention but he had failed. He had taken a photo, anyway, of him all tucked comfortably in the crook of Paulo’s neck.

The caption read, _I love my boyfriend,_ followed by a string of five differently-coloured emoji hearts.

When Paulo tapped on the photo, he saw that Alvaro had tagged him on his eyebrow furrow.

He moved to type a comment, but realised that Alvaro had disabled comments.

He turned to Alvaro, who was fucking _beaming_ at him like he had just discovered something groundbreaking.

“So you don’t have extra work to do,” Alvaro said.

“Can I tell you what I wanted to say, then?”

“Of course.”

“I love my boyfriend, too.”

Alvaro burst into soft laughter. He took Paulo’s hand and led him into the bedroom. “C’mon, let’s go to sleep and dream of each other like a pair of cheesy boyfriends.”

And God, Paulo would never get enough of Alvaro calling himself Paulo’s boyfriend. _Never._

Alvaro fell asleep almost immediately once his head hit the pillow. It made Paulo sad to think of how tired everything was making Alvaro, and that despite it all, he was still trying to put on a strong front for Paulo. And Paulo was doing the same. It just worried him that one day, they would both reach their breaking points.

Without removing himself from Alvaro’s arms, he reached over for his phone and snapped a photo of the both of them – Alvaro fast asleep, his arm slung around Paulo as Paulo rested on his chest. Alvaro looked like a peaceful child when he slept. Paulo didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look sweeter while they were sleeping.

He posted the photo on Instagram with the caption, _I love my boyfriend, too_ , followed by the same chain of hearts.

His finger hovered over the ‘turn off commenting’ button for a while before he chose not to tap it.

Bring it on. The haters could bring it on. Paulo wanted to show them he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid of showing the world he loved Alvaro. He wasn’t afraid to be hated. For the first time in his life, Paulo wasn’t afraid to be hated. Because Alvaro loved him, and it was everything that had ever mattered. Everything that would ever matter.

Paulo snuggled up to Alvaro again and closed his eyes. He was safe. He was protected. He was loved. He had Alvaro, and he was _always_ going to have Alvaro. He knew who he was, he’d found himself; _Alvaro_ had found himself. And right then, even though there were still many things Paulo and Alvaro had to fight against – everything was perfect.

Everything was going to be okay.


	42. Everything You Want's A Dream Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I wanted to post this yesterday but goodness I got so carried away because it was the first day of my final semester of uni and it was so overwhelming. Thought I would wait until Friday to post this but I'm doing it today instead because it's my birthday in a few minutes and this is my gift to all of you! Thank you all for alllllll your support, I truly don't know what I would do without all of you. I hope you'll like this last lap and I hope I haven't bored all of you with all the extensions. I really really appreciate all the kind words you have given me and I will treasure them always. I'm also always looking forward to hearing from you guys, whether it's a comment on here, on [tumblr](https://incredybala.tumblr.com), or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/debushy) :)  
> Thank you all so so so much again! <3
> 
> Title is from Adventure Of A Lifetime by Coldplay.

Juventus’ loss against Hellas Verona was quickly forgotten when it was time for them to receive their Scudetto one week later.

It helped that the trophy presentation came right after a thumping win against Sampdoria. Everyone was just so hyped. The fans were noisier. They even cheered a little when Paulo scored his penalty, though it was still a little subdued. The cheers got louder after Paulo’s second goal, and shit. Paulo was so happy he felt like he could cry.

“You hear that?” Alvaro said as Paulo ran to the bench to give him a hug and a kiss. “They’re cheering for you!”

“Yeah,” Paulo said softly. They were still cheering, even though he had just kissed Alvaro in front of them. The cheers had decreased slightly in amplitude, but. But Paulo was taking it. “Alvi.”

“I love you, Paulo.”

“Me, too,” Paulo mouthed as he tracked back to the centre circle. He blew Alvaro a kiss. He felt like. Like he could never take his eyes off Alvaro.

He wished Alvaro would get the same sort of treatment from the fans, too.

But he gave Alvaro a huge kiss when they were substituted for each other, and no one booed, so Paulo took that, too.

He met Alvaro again in the tunnel when they were preparing for the presentation. He ran straight up to Alvaro and snuggled up against his side, sliding his hand in Alvaro’s and half hooking their arms together. He was being clingy as fuck, but. But he couldn’t not be. Paulo wanted to be as close to Alvaro as he could get. He felt like if he let go of Alvaro, either one of them would break into little tiny pieces.

“Maybe you’re too young to count, but 9 is nowhere near 21,” Alvaro remarked.

“I’m not too young to count, fuck you,” Paulo said. “I just want to hold your hand.”

Alvaro laughed fondly. “Hey,” he said. “Have you ever. Ever thought that this day would happen?”

“Like us winning the league together?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah.”

“No,” Paulo whispered. He saw the smile on Alvaro’s face morph from affectionate to nostalgic. And then proud. “I still think this is a dream, you know?”

“Me, too,” Alvaro confessed. “I thought…I don’t know. Paulo. Wow, the universe really pushed us together, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. “I can’t believe that…that I made it to Europe. And not only that, I made it to Europe to _play with you_. I just. I don’t know. I’m so glad we found our way back together.”

“We made it big, Pau,” Alvaro gave Paulo’s hand a little squeeze. “We made it fucking big.”

“I never thought it would happen. I never thought we would get to play together. It’s just. There are thousands of clubs to play for in Europe. And the one that had you – the one that had you, it wanted me, too.”

“And after all these years,” Alvaro whispered. “After all these fucking years and you’re still fucking _her_ e, Paulo, you’re still here and when you came to Juve you were still my _best friend_ and I didn’t have to say I only knew you from this dumb training camp a thousand years ago.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo pushed his face into Alvaro’s shoulder. “This…this isn’t a dream, yeah? This is real. This is _real._ ”

“I don’t know. Will you pinch me?”

So Paulo pinched him, earning himself a loud yelp and a smack on the arm. “You told me to pinch you,” he pointed out.

“Not so hard!”

“So is it real?”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said. “All I know is, when I first met you, I _never_ thought that this would be possible. I never dared to imagine it. _Never._ ”

Paulo smiled. He pressed a lingering kiss on Alvaro’s lips, one that left the both of them breathless despite its simplicity.

And then Paul and Simone popped up behind them, and Paul said, “I don’t know what kind of math you two did in school, but 9 is nowhere near 21.”

“I tried telling him that,” Alvaro said. “He desperately wants to join the top 10.”

And that was how Paulo got so unceremoniously kicked out of the dumb, self-proclaimed _top 10_. He made his way to the back of the line and wedged himself into the space between Padoin and Asamoah. He watched the three of them from where he was, the 7, 9, and 10 on their backs moving around as they continued laughing and nudging and teasing each other. They looked happy. Alvaro looked happy.

Paul gave a backward glance towards Paulo before elbowing Alvaro in the ribs and whispering something in his ear. It made Alvaro turn back with a slight pink blush on his face, and fuck. Paulo bet Paul had gone and said something dirty.

But Alvaro flashed a huge charming smile at Paulo, one that almost knocked his socks off – as well as his pants and underwear and every other piece of clothing – and Paulo couldn’t help but smile back. It grew into a laugh when Alvaro blew a kiss at him and Simone and Paul pretended to barf.

Paulo held his breath when Alvaro headed outside as his name was called. He closed his eyes, bracing himself. Bracing himself for boos.

But what came was the opposite.

The stands below which they were standing _exploded_ into loud cheers when Alvaro appeared. Maybe Paulo had just set the bar really low, but. But they were louder than he remembered. They were almost as loud as Simone’s cheers.

Paulo turned to the little TV they had and saw fans waving Spanish flags and huge posters of Alvaro.

And he saw Alvaro run along the blue carpet with this _dazzling_ smile on his face, amazed and proud and just so utterly surprised at all the support he was receiving. He turned to his and Paulo’s families, standing in the pitch-side crowd, and waved at them. He waved at all his adoring fans. He belonged here. He belonged in Turin.

And Paulo promptly burst into tears and attracted the attention of everyone wearing the numbers between 15 and 25.

“Oh, my God,” Paulo whispered, clapping his hands over his face as everyone surrounded him in a hug, murmurs of encouragement and disbelief and pure confusion all mixing together. They all wrapped him up tightly like he was a little puppy needing shelter from a storm, some of them trickling away when their numbers were called.

And right then, right in that moment, Paulo realised Isco had been right.

The people who stayed were the ones who truly mattered. The ones who were worth it.

And Paulo and Alvaro still had so many of these people to fight for. To continue playing for. The people who still treated the both of them as _human beings_ , as footballers, just as they had been before coming out. The people who placed trust in them that they could still produce the same performances because they were footballers above all. The people who minded, the people who thought that they deserved hate – they would get tired and leave. They would slowly be filtered out once they realised that this truly wasn’t the thing for them. _The haters wouldn’t be there when it mattered the most._ But these people who stayed. These people _would_. These people were the ones that counted. And soon, these good ones were going to be the only ones left, and they would be the only ones who mattered.

Paulo wiped his tears before his name and number were called. He got a final hug from Asa, Daniele, and Neto as he was given his cue to start walking.

And he burst onto the pitch to the same loud cheering that Alvaro had been warranted, the same rapturous applause and screaming of his name. The same kind of huge posters and Argentine flags waved in the air. The same loving and proud look from his and Alvaro’s families. From _Alvaro_ , who was standing on the podium and clapping so earnestly Paulo was afraid he would get blisters on his hands.

For those few seconds, Paulo felt like he truly belonged here again. He was their top scorer. Their golden boy. _La Joya_. He was the pride of Córdoba. He was the amazing footballer his dad had intended him to be. He had spent his entire life fighting for this, and he had gotten all of it. He had _everything_ – two loving and accepting families, supportive and understanding fans, a European league trophy and medal, and the love of his life. Paulo was on top of the world.

He gleefully accepted his medal and hopped down the stairs. He found himself drifting towards the little clique Alvaro, Paul, and Simone had formed at the other side.

The stadium went quiet waiting for Asa’s name to be called, but the announcer said nothing for the next few seconds. And then, suddenly ringing across the stadium, “Since everybody seems to be looking out for the same thing, Asamoah can wait until Paulo finds his way to Alvaro and kisses him.”

Everyone burst into loud laughter and shit, Paulo was so fucking embarrassed. His teammates formed two lines in front of him, nudging him in between them and towards Alvaro, who was waiting shyly at the other end.

Paulo dipped his head and brisk-walked through the little victory parade his teammates were giving him. He got to Alvaro in almost no time at all, diving right into his open arms and planting a huge kiss on Alvaro’s lips. He vaguely heard the stadium burst into more cheers, more softly than when he’d come out of the tunnel like they weren’t completely sure that they were supposed to react this way, but. But they were _cheering_ and it was everything Paulo had ever wanted.

“Love you,” Alvaro whispered in between pecks. “Champion.”

Paulo smiled. He tiptoed a little to gain better access, completely forgetting for a moment that literally millions of people were watching them until their teammates all started giving coordinated _‘whoa, whoa, whoa’_ s and forming a protective shield around them, preventing the stadium and cameras from seeing them in case, you know, they got carried away.

“It’s getting a little R-21 in here!” Paul yelled.

“Paulo, Alvaro, there are hundreds of little children watching you so it’s supposed to be quite a PG environment around here, and that’s pushing it,” the stadium announcer said cheerily.

Everyone burst into laughter again, and the audience gave a few friendly loud hoots before everyone calmed down and Asamoah’s name was called. Well, everyone calmed down except Paulo and Alvaro.

“This can’t be real,” Alvaro said, his hand warm in Paulo’s. When Paulo turned to him, he had this awestruck look on his face, which was still a little flushed. “Paulo. Is this real?”

“You know what?” Paulo asked. “I don’t even care anymore. Even if this isn’t real, even if this is just a really, really nice long dream. I’m going to take it. I don’t want to waste another moment wondering if it’s real. Because if it is, then it’s the best thing that could ever happen – but if it isn’t, then I’ve just had the best dream _ever_ so I’m not complaining.”

Alvaro smiled. He turned to the little Spanish corner with the ‘Morata 9’ flags and posters. They burst into cheers when he gave them a little wave. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right.”

They stood there hand in hand until the last name was called, taking in every single drop of this victory. A victory for the team, but all in all the biggest victory in Paulo and Alvaro’s lives.

Paulo lifted the trophy for the first time with his Alvaro. It made him believe that, despite all the shit life had a tendency to throw at people, dreams _did_ come true. Because Paulo was living one.

\------

The team had a week to get all the wild out of them before the Coppa Italia final, so they made use of it. They all took turns to drink from the cup and everyone – _including Alvaro –_ took much amusement in trying to make Paulo drunk, and they were all bigger and stronger and had no trouble at all hoisting the huge trophy around and literally pouring beer into Paulo’s mouth. Alvaro spent most of the time egging everyone on and then laughing fondly as Paulo tried to stomach all the beer.

Paulo woke up the next morning feeling like his head was going to vibrate its way off his shoulders.

He rolled over in bed with a loud groan and met a laughing Alvaro, _still_ gazing fondly at him.

“What the fuck you laughing at?” Paulo asked, and regretted it immediately because each word sent a sharp pain shooting through his head.

“You don’t hold liquor very well,” Alvaro said.

Paulo thought back about all the stupid shit he’d done while he was drunk. Blurting out his feelings to Alvaro. Threesome with Franco. Helping Alvaro break up with Mia. “Never have,” he said softly.

Alvaro reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the glass of water and painkillers sitting on it. He held Paulo half upright as he fed them to him, and then gently lay Paulo back down.

“I’ll cook you a nice breakfast,” Alvaro said.

“No need,” Paulo said slowly so he wouldn’t trigger his headache. “I just gotta puke. And sleep some more.”

So Alvaro fetched a bucket and a towel and let Paulo puke it all out. He sat behind Paulo and leaned his cheek on Paulo’s back, and it was comforting even though Paulo was already warm and sweaty as fuck.

“Fuck,” Paulo sighed as he finished round one. He wiped his mouth with the towel as he lay back down. His head was beginning to spin so he closed his eyes. “Did I do anything dumb while I was drunk?”

“Well…” Alvaro said, trailing off. He started to laugh again.

“What?” Paulo asked.

“There’s this video,” Alvaro started again.

“What video?”

“A sex tape,” Alvaro said with a straight face, and when Paulo glared at him so hard his head almost exploded, started laughing again. “Fuck, no, it’s this thing I did.”

“Is it embarrassing?” Paulo groaned.

Alvaro searched through his phone for the video and passed it to Paulo. He sat there sniggering to himself as the video loaded. It was quite shaky, but very clear, and it was a video of Paulo and Alvaro with the trophy in between them.

_It started off with Alvaro glancing at the person holding the phone and nodding to make sure he was being recorded. He turned to Paulo. “Pau, let’s take a photo of us kissing the cup.”_

_Paulo just. Just stared at him for a few moments, like he needed that long to decipher what Alvaro was saying. And then he giggled. He_ giggled _. “Yeah, ‘kay.”_

_Alvaro pointed to the part of the cup where Paulo should put his lips on. Paulo obliged. Alvaro did the same on the other side of the cup, and the person holding the phone started counting up to three._

“Fuck, is that Paul?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro laughed. “Quick, don’t look away.”

_When Paul reached three, Alvaro pulled the trophy out from in between them and, as expected, Paulo started swaying, leaning forward until – until his lips met Alvaro’s._

_The entire room erupted into cheers, including Paul, which made the camera go all shaky. When it returned to focus, it was still on Alvaro and Paulo._

_Paulo had this utterly confused look on his face as Alvaro smiled and wrapped his free arm around him. Paulo rested his chin on Alvaro’s shoulder. He looked to be in a daze as he scanned the room, confused._

_“Why’s the trophy so soft?” he asked. The room burst into laughter which didn’t fucking stop even when the video ended a whole ten seconds later._

Paulo felt a pout form on his face but honestly, he didn’t know if he should laugh or be mad. Alvaro, on the other hand, was laughing so hard next to him he was practically in tears.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking cute when you’re drunk,” he managed to choke.

“Alvi,” Paulo whined.

Alvaro rolled over and wrapped Paulo in a tight hug. “I love you so fucking much.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s cute.”

“Only you think that.”

“ _Everyone_ thinks that,” Alvaro claimed. He lifted Paulo’s head and kissed him on the lips. “Ew, Pau, you taste like vomit.”

“Fuck you. I just vomited.”

“You’re gross.”

“You just said I’m cute.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Fuck off,” Paulo said, but burrowed his way into Alvaro’s arms again, anyway. He closed his eyes and sighed. Okay, so it _was_ pretty funny. “Are you posting it on Instagram?” he mumbled.

“No,” Alvaro lied.

“You are.”

“I’m not,” Alvaro paused. “Would you mind if I did?”

“See? You’re posting it.”

“Fine, I am. But would you mind?”

“No,” Paulo said. He knew this was who Alvaro was. Alvaro had always been a fan of public displays – Paulo not so much, but Alvaro thrived on attention and likes. He didn’t really read all the comments but he loved getting likes and. Well, Alvaro was weird as fuck. “Go ahead.”

So Alvaro posted it as Paulo dozed, occasionally waking Paulo up when he started laughing at it again or when he received a funny comment from one of his friends or teammates. When Paulo sleepily asked him what the caption was, he said, “There isn’t a caption ‘cause it doesn’t need one. It’s gold on its own.”

“I’ll get you back one day,” Paulo replied.

“Nah,” was all he heard from Alvaro before he fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up, the sunlight had dimmed considerably and Alvaro was placing a warm towel on his head.

“Third towel,” he smiled.

“What time is it?” Paulo asked.

“Three in the afternoon.”

“Shit. I feel like shit.”

“Sleep some more.”

“No, I need to get up and walk around.”

“What,” Alvaro said. He hurriedly stood up when Paulo got out of bed. “What, you’re so weird.”

“I’m fucking starving,” Paulo said.

Alvaro followed him everywhere, frantically pressing the towel to Paulo’s head. He stood behind Paulo holding it in place when Paulo peed. He stumbled after Paulo to the kitchen and bent over with Paulo when he searched for food in the fridge.

He finally said, “Could you hold this yourself while I cook for you?”

Paulo sighed. He waited for Alvaro to warm the towel again and pass it back to him, along with a bottle containing, like, a full litre of water. Paulo was instructed to finish the whole thing, so he opened it and started chugging.

“The video you posted,” Paulo said, watching Alvaro as he zoomed about the kitchen. “You enabled commenting?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said before pausing. “Don’t worry, I only read the ones from people we know.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Can I see?”

“Are you going to delete them?”

Paulo shrugged before realising that Alvaro had his back to him. “If they’re bad,” he said instead.

“Paulo,” Alvaro sighed. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to read them if they hurt you.”

“I can read them on my phone too, you know?”

Alvaro sighed again. “Paulo.”

“Okay, okay.”

“I know you’re trying to protect me,” Alvaro said softly. “I know you don’t want me to be upset. But if you read them and _you’re_ upset, then. Then it does the same thing to me. It’s not worth it at all. Okay?”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered.

“But,” Alvaro turned and smiled lovingly at Paulo. “They’re getting fewer. The hateful ones.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There’s this thing about haters. The first kind, they say mean things about things they don’t like and then eventually leave them alone because they’ve decided that it truly isn’t the thing for them. The second kind, they say mean things to get attention. They do it to spark a fight. These are the ones we see all the time. But we’re lucky, because these are the ones who also don’t mean it as much. They’re just trolls. They just want attention. If we ignore them, they might not go away, but it makes our lives better and their lives worse.”

Paulo smiled. He rested his chin on his hands. “My boyfriend is so wise,” he cooed.

Alvaro gave a soft giggle. “Yeah? Makes you feel better when you think about it like that?”

“Mmhmm.”

Alvaro eventually served a heaping plate of eggs and a giant bowl of oats to Paulo, along with the now-refilled litre of water.

“Finish everything,” he instructed.

Paulo opened his mouth to complain about how much food it was, but only succeeded in allowing Alvaro to shove a spoonful of oats in it. He picked up the utensils and started eating on his own as Alvaro watched him fondly.

“Nice?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo nodded. It was a lot, but. But it helped.

“Hey,” he said. “Alvi. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Alvaro said. He reached over and placed a palm on Paulo’s cheek, his smile growing when Paulo pushed his face further into his grasp. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

Paulo gave him a shy smile. He could never. Never imagine what his life would’ve been like if he hadn’t been chosen to fill the empty slot in the training camp. If he hadn’t met Alvaro. If, in his life, there was no Alvaro Morata.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“Love you, too,” Alvaro whispered.

“Aren’t you hungover?”

“I’m okay.”

“Eat some,” Paulo said, and when Alvaro opened his mouth to protest, shoved a spoonful of oats in it.

They spent the entire afternoon taking turns to feed each other, and Paulo swore. Paulo swore he had never been more in love with Alvaro than he was right then.

But then again, every time Paulo thought that, there would unfailingly, inevitably, whether it was a week later or a month later – be another occasion that proved him wrong. Paulo felt like he could never stop falling in love with Alvaro, even after every time he thought he’d maxed out all his affection. And fuck, Paulo had tripped and fallen many times in his life but this. This was his favourite fall.

\------

The Coppa Italia final was nothing like Paulo had ever imagined.

He lost count of how many times his heart almost skipped out of his chest whenever Milan sent a shot at goal. He ran until he could barely feel his legs. He mentally screamed at the heavens whenever Juve missed one of their rare opportunities.

He glanced at the bench, at Alvaro, every time he felt hopeless. Alvaro would give him the same encouraging smile and a tiny fist pump.

Despite how simple it was, it gave Paulo the energy to keep trying.

And then, in the second half of extra time, Alvaro got substituted into the match.

And two minutes later, scored.

Alvaro veered away in celebration and hopped over the advertising hoardings in his excitement, right in front of all their loyal Juventus fans. And although he was tired as fuck, so tired that his legs were almost giving way right under him, Paulo ran.

Paulo ran after Alvaro, the first to do so, and caught up with him, jumping on his back and yelling in his ear words that Paulo could barely make out himself. Paulo almost fell off Alvaro’s shoulders as he strained forward to kiss Alvaro until Alvaro made things easier by turning his face to the side.

But they only had two seconds of wet, sweaty, sloppy kisses until their teammates started jumping on them, yelling excitedly about ‘Morata, Morata, we’re winners because of you again,’ and Paulo realised he had momentarily forgotten that Alvaro had just scored what was essentially the winning goal because, well.

Because Paulo was already a winner. He had Alvaro. He would always be a winner.

He stuck close to Alvaro as the medals were handed out. He couldn’t stop _smiling_. Alvaro turned and asked, “What the fuck is wrong with your face?”

“What?”

“You’re like that teethy emoji that no one is really sure whether it’s grimacing or smiling.”

“Fuck you. You can’t stop smiling, either.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro grinned. “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I want to ask if this is real but I also don’t care.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. “You won it for us.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. You can’t deny it. Alvaro, you’ve done so well. You’ve proven to everyone that we can do it – that _you_ can do it. That our relationship isn’t as bad as they think it is. That the club moves on, and so should they. You’ve done it all for us.”

Alvaro smiled. He gave Paulo’s nose a little pinch and wiggle. “I really wanna kiss you right now,” he said.

“You can,” Paulo reminded him.

So Alvaro did. He leaned over and grabbed Paulo’s face with both his hands and smacked a loud kiss on Paulo’s lips, and the medals were still being given out but everyone suddenly crowded around them to shield them again, and the stadium announcer suddenly shrieked, “Paulo! Alvaro! PG environment!”

And everyone started laughing, and the crowd started cheering, and shit. Paulo felt so complete. He felt so _complete._

He lifted their second trophy of the season together with Alvaro again. His Alvaro. His own personal trophy. His prize. The best reward for anything ever.

He looked up to the night sky as he held the trophy towards it. _Dad, this is for you. The second trophy in one month. This is for you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for pushing me even when I thought I couldn’t do any better. Thank you for making this as much of my dream as it is yours. This is for you. I wish you were here to watch me. I made it, dad. I made it for you. I hope you’re proud. I love you and I hope you’re proud of me._

\------

The night was so wild, they only managed to meet their families the next day for a meal.

The first thing Alvaro’s dad asked when they all sat down was, “So Paulo, where are you planning to spend your summer?”

Alvaro saw Paulo’s eyes dart around anxiously. It was one thing to have his dad willing to talk to Paulo. It was another thing for Paulo to have an inherent need to constantly impress Alvaro’s dad.

“Um,” Paulo said. “I haven’t really thought about it. I…don’t really have a tournament to prepare for, so.”

Alvaro reached under the table and gave Paulo’s knee a squeeze before taking his hand. He knew that despite all the ecstasy from winning the domestic double, Paulo was still shaken by the disappointment of not being called up for the Copa America. And the double whammy of Juventus’ unshakeable prohibition of Paulo joining Argentina for the Olympics. Paulo was being given the chance but he also wasn’t allowed to take it.

“Would you like to join us?” dad asked.

“Join you…where?” Paulo furrowed his brow, and God, Alvaro was so fucking fond.

“In France, to watch Alvaro in the Euros. Maybe your mom would like to come along, too?”

Paulo turned to Alvaro in surprise, and then to his mom, who had a really happy and excited look on her face. She nodded at Paulo.

“Yeah?” Paulo asked hesitantly. “You’d…you’d like me to come with you?”

“If you want to,” Alvaro’s mom said.

Paulo turned to Alvaro again. Alvaro gave him a smile and a nod. Alvaro would literally give the _world_ for Paulo to be there to watch him play. And he knew what it meant to Paulo to receive an invite from Alvaro’s dad himself.

“Okay,” Paulo finally said. “I’ll go. Mom will go too, yeah?”

And so it was set.

Paulo didn’t stop smiling the entire day and Alvaro realised exactly how much it all meant to Paulo. Paulo was willing to sacrifice his entire summer. He could’ve spent it back in Argentina, with his family and friends. He could’ve spent it in the US, watching his Argentina. Watching his idol Messi.

But instead, he was going to France to watch Alvaro.

“You know what,” Paulo said as they settled in bed at the end of the day. “I’m glad I get to go watch you play.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Why?”

“I used to, remember? I went to Romania to watch you play. And it was so simple back then but it got so difficult because now everyone knows us. And it was weird because I didn’t have any reason to go all the way over to wherever you were to watch you. But now I can. _Now I can,_ Alvi. I’m not gonna have to be worried about someone seeing me there and asking why the fuck I’m watching Spain. Because _my boyfriend plays for Spain_.”

“You know what I’m glad about?”

“What?”

“That I didn’t get kicked off the Spanish team just ‘cause I’m in a relationship with you.”

Paulo paused for a really long time.

“Would you have broken up with me if they said you had to in order to play the Euros?” he asked.

And, oops. Alvaro was still as horrible with words as he had always been. “No, hey,” he gently nudged Paulo’s cheek. “I meant it as a good thing.”

“But would you?”

“No. I wouldn’t. I’d have spent the summer with you.”

Paulo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Of course. We’d go to the Bahamas or something. Or Dubai. Or Maldives. Or wherever in the world you want to.”

Paulo’s smile grew. “You know where I’d actually really wanna be?”

“Where?”

Paulo burrowed himself right into Alvaro’s arms so that he was half lying on Alvaro, one thigh nudged in between both of Alvaro’s. He pressed his cheek against where Alvaro’s heart was. “Right here,” he whispered.

Alvaro laughed, watching as it made Paulo rise and fall along with his chest. “Cheesy fuck.”

Paulo smiled proudly and nuzzled his face further into the front of Alvaro’s t-shirt. It was a little warm pool at Alvaro’s heart. Like the little warm pool Paulo had always put there, but. But now physically, as well.

Alvaro watched as Paulo slowly fell asleep. He watched as the big smile on Paulo’s face slowly faded into a lingering upward turn of the lips, as his eyelids fluttered several times before he slowly descended into his dreams. He watched Paulo’s tiny little hand grasp a handful of Alvaro’s t-shirt, not tugging, just resting there, like even in his dreams, he only ever needed to know that Alvaro was there. He listened to Paulo breathe in that terrifying way of his, frequently stopping completely for a few seconds before restarting with a loud, deep breath, like he’d forgotten to breathe; in that way that he had always assured Alvaro was normal but which Alvaro refused to believe.

He watched Paulo fall asleep in the most mesmerising way possible. Alvaro often felt like he could stay up an entire night just to watch Paulo sleep. Just to make sure he breathed properly. He could spend the entire night just watching Paulo because it was more peaceful, more relaxing, than even the most well-rested sleep Alvaro had ever gotten.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around Paulo and pulled Paulo closer to him. Paulo’s cheeks were all squished together but Alvaro wasn’t afraid of waking him up because Paulo slept like a pig.

“You’ll always be right here,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo didn’t hear him, evidently. Alvaro gently lifted Paulo so he was fully lying on Alvaro. He wrapped his arms and legs around Paulo like Paulo was this oddly-sized, oddly-shaped bolster. Alvaro just. He just felt so warm inside and outside. Warm in every way possible.

Alvaro spent his time alternating between counting how many breaths Paulo took every minute and thinking about every single thing that had happened in the past year that he could say was literally a dream come true. Alvaro couldn’t believe that they’d come so far. He couldn’t believe that all that shit talking they’d done back in 2009, back in 2010 and 2011 and 2012 all the way up to 2015 – all the shit talking that they’d done about playing together and winning a trophy together, it had _all come true_. They had actually, legitimately, found their way back to each other, from Córdoba-Madrid, Palermo-Madrid, Palermo-Turin, closer and closer and closer until they were both finally in Turin.

He couldn’t help but smile when he thought of how the entire universe must have fucking aligned in order for all of that to have happened. For everything that had led up to this day, right this moment, to have happened.

He hugged Paulo so tightly Paulo actually gave a little groan and sigh before continuing to breathe.

He was never going to let Paulo go. Alvaro was never, ever, _ever_ going to let Paulo go.


	43. I Can See It Coming Round Full Circle My Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Hotel Ceiling by Rixton.

Paulo was helping Alvaro pack for his trip to the Euros when the call came.

Well, actually, _calls._ One each for him and Alvaro.

The name that flashed on Alvaro’s screen was his agent’s. The name that flashed on Paulo’s was – it was Mia’s.

Paulo went out of the bedroom to take the call. He stood in the hallway, finger hovering over the call button. He gave Alvaro a glance. Alvaro had taken his call and was listening to what his agent was saying.

Paulo tapped the call button before he could change his mind.

“Hello?” he said.

There was a long silence on the other end, then, “Hey, Paulo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Mia.”

“Yeah, um…hi. Mia.”

“Does – does Alvaro know you’re talking to me?”

Paulo glanced at Alvaro again. He was still listening attentively. Paulo was pretty sure he hadn’t seen what was on Paulo’s screen. “Nope,” he said.

“Okay, um,” Mia cleared her throat. “I just want to say. That I saw what you guys did. You know, coming out and everything, in that press conference. And I just want to say that…that’s very brave, Paulo. That’s…that’s very, very brave.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered. He still wasn’t sure what to make of all this.

“And you two deserve to be happy together, yeah? I mean. Yeah.”

“Mia, I’m sorry,” Paulo said. “I’m sorry about what happened. I shouldn’t have said all those things. I should have let you and Alvaro be. I should have let him deal with it, I shouldn’t have butted my nose in. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mia said softly. “We…I guess we would never have worked out in the end because Alvaro loves you so much. It’s just. It was always going to come.”

“It didn’t have to be that way.”

“Yeah,” Mia gave a little laugh. “But it’s over. I’m glad you two are happy now. I just. Thank you, Paulo. For being the one to tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s,” Mia sighed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I just. Paulo. Congrats. You two have come really far. And I’m not being spiteful, I just really am congratulating you, I really am happy for you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. “Hey, Mia. Just. Alvaro really, really did care for you. He really loved you. Just don’t think any other way, okay?”

There was a short silence from Mia, then in a soft, timid little mumble that sounded like she was crying, she said, “Okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I know he really cared. Please believe me.”

“Yeah, must be true, coming from you,” she gave a kind laugh. “Paulo, I’m really glad you two worked out. You two just…just go out there and be happy together, okay?”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

“Alvaro really wanted to talk to you. He really wanted to make it right after I…after I ruined everything. Mia, he really cared. He was really upset about how everything ended with you.”

“Yeah,” Mia said again. She sighed. “Paulo, it’s over. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just…just want to let you know. I wish you guys all the best. You are so brave and you’ve come so far and. And it’s really nice.”

“Thank you so much, Mia.”

“Are you going to tell Alvaro you spoke to me?” she laughed softly. “You two tell each other everything, don’t you?”

“Can I? Tell him?”

“Yeah. Sure. Just…just tell him not to call me, yeah? I can’t talk to him. I keep thinking of calling him, of telling him all these things that I’ve just told you, but…but I just can’t talk to him. So I called you. So…yeah.”

“Thank you. Mia, thank you.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled. And then there was a long silence before, “Paulo. So…that’s all. Yeah. Good luck to the both of you, all the best and I’m happy for you and. Yeah. So. I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “Bye, Mia. Thank you so much.”

She gave a soft laugh before she hung up and the dial tone returned.

Paulo stood in the hallway for a few moments trying to compose himself. He saw that Alvaro had already hung up the phone and was sitting on the bed in a daze, just. Just staring straight ahead at nothing.

He went back inside and sat next to Alvaro, gently placing a hand on Alvaro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Paulo said. “Alvi.”

Alvaro snapped back to attention, turning to Paulo and blinking a few times. “Who called you?” he asked, his voice shaking a little.

It got Paulo worried. Paulo slid his hand down Alvaro’s arm until he got to Alvaro’s hand. He took it and gave it a little squeeze. “You first.”

“My agent,” was all Alvaro said.

When he didn’t continue, Paulo urged, “What did he say?”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“What is it, baby?”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again, and this time. This time he had tears in his eyes. His hands began to shake. “I might have to go back to Madrid.”

Paulo’s entire world collapsed around him.

“What?” he whispered.

“You know…you know that clause in my contract? The one that says that Real Madrid can buy me back?”

“Yeah?”

“They called. They called and asked about it.”

“No,” Paulo said. “No. No.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered again, and. And he was crying. Alvaro was crying and he hung his head for a few moments before he buried it in Paulo’s shoulder. “Paulo. I don’t want to go.”

“But you have to,” Paulo said, his voice wobbly. “Yeah?”

“But,” Alvaro sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo and squeezed, and Paulo couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t know if it was because of this or because he physically couldn’t deal with Alvaro being far, far away again. “But I just got you. Paulo, I just got you and we just got together and now we have to be apart, and I don’t want that, Paulo, I don’t want that. I want you.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. He moved closer and hugged Alvaro, pressing Alvaro’s face into his chest. “You have to go. This is your life. It’s your football and you have to play it.”

“But –“ Alvaro choked between all his sobs. “No. No.”

“Look,” Paulo said softly, gently running his hand soothingly up and down Alvaro’s back. “It’s not a done deal yet, yeah? It’s not confirmed? You’re going to go to France and you’re going to fucking _kick ass_ , yeah?”

Alvaro went silent, contemplating for a few moments. And then he mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

“You’re going to do so good.”

“What if I really have to go back?”

“We’ll talk about it when it happens. Okay? And Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember we said football first?”

“Yeah, but only because it _had to be,_ because football _had_ to be first if I wanted to be with you. Now I’ll be somewhere else with football first and you won’t be there, Pau, and I don’t know what to do without you.”

“You do,” Paulo whispered. He nuzzled the edge of Alvaro’s ear with his nose. “You always have.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro breathed.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” Paulo said, even though. Even though he wasn’t so sure about himself. Even though he didn’t know if _he_ was going to be okay without Alvaro. But he couldn’t be selfish. If Alvaro had to go, he had to go. “C’mon. Let’s pack. You’re going to France and show them who’s boss and then like a hundred other clubs will want you.”

“That’s not the point because I want to be _here._ ”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Alvaro sighed. He wiped his tears on the back of his hands and timidly gazed up at Paulo. “Hey. I love you.”

Paulo leaned over and pressed his lips against Alvaro’s. “I love you so much, Alvaro Borja Morata.”

“Are you…are you scared?”

“I know you’ll do super well no matter where you are, Alvi.”

“No, not that,” Alvaro said. “Us. Are you worried…about us?”

Paulo didn’t answer. He had no answer. He could only sit there and think about it, the silence between them slowly becoming heavier and heavier. Part of him just _knew_ that he and Alvaro were _always_ going to be okay. Always.

But another part of him knew how Alvaro had always handled long-distance relationships.

It was one thing to be apart when they weren’t a couple. It was another to be apart when they were.

“We’ll talk about it when it happens, okay?” Paulo eventually said.

Alvaro nodded. He didn’t appear disappointed that Paulo hadn’t given him an answer. “Who called you?” he asked.

“Mia.”

Alvaro’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked. “You fucking around with me?”

“No, she really did,” Paulo said. “She said…that you shouldn’t call her because she can’t talk to you.”

“What else did she say?”

Paulo told him everything that Mia had said. About being happy for them. About how it was nice that they were doing well. About how Paulo had apologised about five hundred times and Mia had said it was okay.

By the end of it Alvaro was crying again and Paulo just. Paulo felt so helpless. He knew Alvaro would never get the kind of closure with Mia that Paulo had been so lucky to get with Isa. Paulo would never get over the guilt of that but there was also _nothing_ either Paulo or Alvaro could do.

Paulo hated seeing Alvaro have a breakdown like this. He hated seeing Alvaro, the steadiest, most unshakeable person Paulo had ever known, break down like this. He hated thinking that one day, eventually, even if this Madrid move didn’t happen – Paulo and Alvaro would have to be apart again, for another reason.

Paulo felt like he and Alvaro could never catch a break.

They’d both made their way to Turin but apparently that was all the universe was going to give them. It was all they were going to get. They had maxed out all their being-together luck.

But Paulo knew he had to be strong. He knew that one of them had to have their shit together and it was usually Alvaro but now it was Paulo’s turn. So, despite the feeling in his chest that felt like his heart was being gnawed out, he wrapped his arms tightly around Alvaro and pressed his lips softly on Alvaro’s ear.

“Alvaro, listen to me, ‘kay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“First of all, this thing isn’t confirmed. We don’t know if it’ll even end up happening. No matter whether it does – worrying about it won’t help. It won’t change the outcome. This isn’t something that will go away if you work hard. So…let’s not waste our energy on it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Alvaro whispered.

“And secondly, Mia bothered to call. She’s happy for us. She bothered to try and tell us that. Alvi, this is all the closure you’re ever going to get from her. And I’m sorry that it has to be this way. It was all my fault, it was completely my fault and –“

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“– I’m sorry, but she called and she wished us all the best and. And Alvaro. She’s obviously trying really hard to move on. You almost owe it to her to try and move on yourself, too.”

There was silence from Alvaro and for one terrifying moment Paulo thought he’d pissed Alvaro off.

That was only until Alvaro moved to nudge his face in the crook of Paulo’s neck, giving Paulo’s clavicle a soft kiss. His head fit perfectly there. Paulo pressed his cheek against the top of Alvaro’s head.

“Is this all we’re going to get?” Alvaro asked.

“You’ll always have me. I promise.”

“It’s not enough. Our time together.”

“Alvaro.”

“It’s been going so well,” Alvaro whispered. “Don’t you think? Everything’s been going so, so well. Everyone’s starting to love us again. They’re supposed to get used to seeing us together. We’re supposed to _be together._ Always. We’re supposed to _always_ be together, forever, and we’re supposed to get married and buy a huge dog.”

And fuck, this sounded like the end. This sounded more like a breakup than Paulo had ever wanted it to be. And he wasn’t so sure anymore, whether it was a breakup or not.

“Everything’s still going to go well,” he said instead. “You are going to France and you are going to wow the fuck out of everyone, and I’m going to be there to watch every fucking minute and everyone will be so mesmerised by you and I am going to be the proudest person in the entire world. Okay?”

Alvaro turned his face upwards and gave Paulo a little smile. It was all Paulo needed. It was literally everything Paulo had ever needed in his whole life.

“Okay,” Alvaro said.

“Could you try to put everything aside at least until after the Euros?” Paulo whispered. He gently ran his fingers through Alvaro’s hair. “Could you do that for me?”

“Okay,” Alvaro said again. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“You’re gonna be so great.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. “I’m glad Mia called. It…it kinda sorts things out.”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled.

“I love you so much, Paulo,” Alvaro breathed. He buried his face in Paulo’s chest, whispering frantically, “I love you. I love you so, so, so fucking much and I’m so scared, Paulo, I don’t know what my life will be like without you.”

“You’re not going to be without me. I promise.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sobbed.

“Remember three seconds ago, you said you were gonna try pushing this aside?”

“I’m trying. I’m trying.”

Paulo gently set him down on the bed and tucked a pillow under his head. “Will you lie down here while I pack for you?” he asked.

Alvaro didn’t respond except to grab on tightly to Paulo’s arm, pressing Paulo’s hand to his cheek.

Paulo sighed. He used his other hand to gently comb through Alvaro’s hair again, massaging his scalp, hoping that Alvaro would fall right asleep so Paulo could pack for the both of them. Alvaro’s flight was the very next day, after all.

His plan worked. Alvaro fell into a peaceful sleep a few minutes later, and Paulo managed to slide his hand out of Alvaro’s grasp. Alvaro was just. He was so adorable. When he was stressed, he either became delirious or he fell right asleep. Paulo was so fucking fond.

He went around Alvaro’s place picking out clothes for Alvaro to take. They were mostly just t-shirts and underwear. He folded all of them nicely and packed them into Alvaro’s small suitcase along with some toiletries and a towel because Alvaro hated hotel towels, and he zipped everything up and put it by the door.

He collected all the clothes he had at Alvaro’s place and folded them all as well, and packed them in his own small suitcase. He and his mom were going to Madrid to be with Alvaro’s family before they all went to France together. He realised he and Alvaro should get more shirts that weren’t black or white or grey.

He went and sat next to Alvaro and watched him sleep. He smiled when Alvaro felt around for his hand and found it, gleefully holding it to his chest like it was a trophy.

He wondered if this was the end.

He wondered if after all these years, after everything they had done, all the work they had put in to be together, that this would just be the anticlimactic end. Now that they weren’t just friends anymore, Paulo wondered if being apart was something they could handle. Sure, they had been apart for almost their entire friendship, but this wasn’t just friendship anymore. Paulo knew Alvaro needed physical affection. He needed to kiss Paulo, to hug Paulo, to just hold Paulo’s hand, in order to truly feel that he was in a relationship. But that wasn’t going to be possible if he was in Turin and Alvaro was in Madrid. Paulo knew that emotionally, this was just a tiny little obstacle. They wouldn’t stop loving each other just because they were apart. But after how Alvaro had reacted to the news, he wasn’t so sure if this was what Alvaro would want.

Alvaro had been right. Things were going so well. _Too well_ , even. It was like a foreshadowing that neither Paulo nor Alvaro had caught on about.

He lay down next to Alvaro and pressed his head against Alvaro’s, their noses touching. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how this would turn out to be. Paulo would cherish every moment they had left.

\------

All the worry of his impending move flew right out of Alvaro’s head once he joined his Spanish teammates for their pre-Euro training camp.

Paulo had been right. It was no use worrying about it. He knew his agent would be taking care of it and after a heated discussion with Paulo, he’d decided to tell his agent to go ahead and make the decision that would result in the least hassle or legal problems and the adequate offer of money. Even if it meant Real Madrid got him in the end, since they could offer more money to him, anyway.

It was all Paulo’s doing. Paulo was pushing Alvaro towards Madrid but Alvaro knew it wasn’t because Paulo wanted him far away. He knew it was only because Paulo wanted the best for him and maybe that best was in Madrid and he was trying his very, very best to let Alvaro know that he was okay with letting Alvaro go.

Paulo was so annoyingly sensible and Alvaro loved him to bits for it.

Alvaro was asked at a pre-tournament press conference about the interest from Real Madrid and he was torn between giving a ‘no comment’ answer or a politically correct one, but he decided that he’d be mature.

He told them the truth, which was that he was happy at Juve. He had always been happy at Juve. And he was going to stay until someone told him he had to leave.

He was then immediately asked about what would happen to Paulo if he left for Madrid. And Alvaro was again torn between giving a ‘no comment’ or a real truthful answer. He eventually decided on the latter because he was so fucking offended that anyone would think he and Paulo would just fall apart like that.

“Football has always come first for the both of us,” he said. “And football will not come between us. What happens between me and Paulo is private, but you can be assured that a move for either of us anywhere does not affect how we feel for each other.”

Paulo texted him after the press conference to say how proud he was.

Spain’s opening game against the Czechs was rather uneventful in Alvaro’s point of view. He didn’t score and was eventually subbed off after playing an hour. Spain eventually won.

Nevertheless, when they were given their allotted fifteen minutes with family outside the locker rooms, his family was there with big smiles and hugs, and. And Paulo was there, with the biggest smile and the biggest hug, softly whispering into Alvaro’s ear how he was so, so, so proud of Alvaro for making his tournament debut for Spain. And despite the area buzzing with everyone meeting their families, Paulo’s voice was the only one Alvaro could hear.

In Spain’s next game against Turkey, Alvaro scored two goals, one on either side of half time.

Alvaro wanted to run up to Paulo and kiss him both times, but the Stade de Nice had this really awesome VIP lounge in which Paulo and the rest had been put in, so he couldn’t. All he wanted was Paulo. All Alvaro could think of after each goal was Paulo. It was Paulo saying he was going to watch every second of Alvaro’s rise and he was going to be so proud.

He saw Paulo charging down the stairs of the stands like a raging bull almost right after the final whistle was blown for a 3-0 Spanish win. He watched as Paulo shoved his way through the crowd, an utterly _furious_ look on his face as he glared at people until they gave way. Paulo was so. He was so typically _him_ and Alvaro was so _fond_ and he could never imagine what his life would be like if Paulo hadn’t been in it.

He met Paulo with open arms when Paulo finally reached the advertising hoardings. Paulo pressed a wet, eager kiss on Alvaro’s lips with a gigantic smile, before burying his head in the crook of Alvaro’s neck although it was damp with sweat.

“One for me and one for you,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo smiled and Alvaro felt the upturn of his lips against his skin. Paulo leaned his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder and gazed lovingly up at him. “You’re so ugly,” he said.

“What,” Alvaro said, hurt. He ran a hand over the stubble of hair that was all he had left on his head after he and Sergio had done their lucky head-shaving ritual before the tournament. Alvaro was aware he looked sort of like a carrot but it was really cooling, so. “Well, you still love me, joke’s on you.”

Paulo smiled. He didn’t take his eyes off Alvaro even though Alvaro was supposedly ugly. “True.”

“I’ll see you later inside, yeah?” Alvaro said. He gave Paulo’s cheek a pinch.

Paulo nodded. “You did so good, Alvi.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled.

And then Alvaro’s teammates started calling for him, so he had to let go of Paulo. But before he could go, Paulo tugged on his arm again.

“I love you,” he said.

Alvaro’s smile burst into a grin. He couldn’t help it. Paulo just made him feel all fuzzy everywhere.

“Me, too,” he mouthed. He lifted Paulo’s hand to his lips briefly.

Paulo stood there at the edge of the pitch following Alvaro’s every move with his loving gaze until Alvaro went back inside the locker room, like he was Alvaro’s very own personal guardian angel.

\------

Everything went to shit after that.

On the morning of the day Spain were going to play Croatia to decide the winner of their group, Alvaro’s agent called.

“Real Madrid are going to use their buy-back. They’ll make an announcement in a while.”

Alvaro sat on his bed for a while, in a daze. Alvaro wanted to be a star. He wanted to shine and be on top of the world just so he could prove to everybody that he and Paulo would make it. Just so that Paulo would be protected, so that Paulo would not be hurt. Just so that the world would know that just because someone was gay, or bi, or whatever sexual orientation they chose to go with, didn’t mean that their talents should simply be erased.

But exactly because he’d done all that, he now had to go back to Madrid.

He sat on his bed in his tracksuit until Lucas came knocking on his door to tell him everybody was waiting for him to start their team meeting.

He sat in the meeting trying his very best to take in what del Bosque was saying. He got some of it. Most of it. But his mind was just running one sentence over and over and over again: _How am I going to tell Paulo?_

He ended up not needing to.

Real Madrid posted a short announcement on their website just a few hours before the match was due to start. It didn’t say anything besides the fact that Alvaro was going to join Real Madrid for their pre-season preparations. Alvaro’s Spanish teammates took it well. Some of them congratulated him, because after all, it was a good thing Alvaro was going home. Others welcomed him back. Most of them took it easy, not wanting the hype to take over the importance of the match.

Alvaro checked his phone every five minutes but there was nothing from Paulo. There was a text from Isco, though, which simply said, _call me when you can._

Alvaro called him. He knew Isco was off holidaying somewhere. He appreciated that Isco still bothered to think about him.

“You’re coming back, for real?” was how Isco greeted him. Well, Alvaro couldn’t blame him. The amount of discussion Alvaro’d had with Isco about this whole transfer thing was probably worth only a single grain of sand in all the million grains on the beach Isco was currently treading on.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said.

“How did Paulo react?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken.”

A long pause. “Not at all?”

“Not since I got the news this morning.”

“Alvaro.”

“I don’t know what to say, Isco.”

“Then don’t say anything. Listen to what _he_ has to say.”

There was silence. Alvaro didn’t know what to say. Isco seemed to get it.

“Alvaro,” he said. “Welcome back. I’ve missed you.”

Alvaro smiled. “Thanks, Francisco. Can’t wait to play with you again.”

He expected Isco to make some lame, fake-jealous jab at how Alvaro would very much rather be playing with Paulo, but. But he didn’t. Alvaro felt relieved. He didn’t know if he would have flared up at Isco had he said anything of the sort. Alvaro had no control of his feelings right then.

“Tell me how it goes, yeah?” Isco said instead.

Alvaro hung up the phone and saw that he had one single text notification.

 _I love you_ , from Paulo.

Alvaro closed his eyes as sudden tears overwhelmed him. He didn’t deserve Paulo. Paulo was too kind, too sweet, to have any of this happen to him. Alvaro didn’t deserve to be with him. Paulo didn’t deserve to be treated this way, he didn’t deserve to be smacked in the face with the news that Alvaro was going to leave him and they were going to return to how they had been, all the long distance, before Paulo had moved to Turin – _and_ on the 21st of June, seven years after they’d met. Seven years exactly _to the day._ It was supposed to be a happy day.

But now it was 21st June 2009, the day they’d met; 21st June 2016, the day Alvaro brought them back to square one. Seven years, one full circle.

Alvaro didn’t reply to the text. He couldn’t.

He went out and played against Croatia and scored Spain’s solitary goal in a 2-1 defeat.

He met his family outside the locker rooms again. They congratulated him and expressed their happiness that he was coming home.

He saw Paulo standing alone at the far end of the hallway, shoulder leant against the wall.

Alvaro walked up to him and just. Just wrapped him up in a big hug before he even noticed Alvaro was there. And the feeling, the feeling of Paulo in his arms, the concept so familiar yet foreign at once – it made Alvaro burst into quiet tears.

“I love you,” Paulo said, in a soft whisper this time.

“I love you so much, Paulo,” Alvaro gasped. “I love you and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s something you have to do, Alvi. I’m not blaming you.”

“I found out this morning. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I’m sorry, Pau. I’m so sorry.”

“No, hey,” Paulo said. “It’s…it’s life, yeah? And football will always be first. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said reluctantly.

“I’m very proud of you, Alvaro Borja Morata Martin.”

Alvaro smiled, despite it all. “Thank you so much.”

“One goal, huh?” Paulo planted a soft kiss on the nape of Alvaro’s neck. “For me or for you?”

“For you,” Alvaro said. “Always for you.”

“We’ll share.”

“I’m sorry. I let you down.”

“You didn’t. You still got through to the round of 16.”

“No, it’s not that,” Alvaro started, but stopped when Paulo gave him a soft ‘shh.’ “Paulo. I love you very much, you know that, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, too. With all my heart.”

Alvaro wanted to ask if they were okay. If they were going to be okay.

But for the first time since he’d met Paulo, he was afraid of hearing the answer.

Alvaro just held on to Paulo tightly, afraid that if he let go, he’d never get to do it again. He held on to Paulo until he heard a whistle and a yell telling them their fifteen minutes were over.

He felt Paulo grasp a handful of the back of his shirt, pulling hard like he didn’t want Alvaro to let go. Like he didn’t want to just let Alvaro slip right through his fingers.

Alvaro had to be physically pulled away by Lucas – Lucas, _his new teammate Lucas_ – but not before he gave Paulo one last long, lingering kiss on the lips.

Paulo was smiling when they pulled apart. He wasn’t crying, though his eyes were shimmering with what looked like tears. His smile grew when Alvaro mustered one himself before running his thumb down Paulo’s brow line.

“Love you so much,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo pressed a final kiss to Alvaro’s lips. “You are so fucking awesome, Alvaro Morata.”

Alvaro walked backwards until he reached the locker room. He didn’t know how he could possibly take his eyes off Paulo. He thought maybe if he did, Paulo would crumble into little tiny pieces and Alvaro would never get to see him again.

Alvaro got back to the hotel, took a long warm shower, and climbed into bed alone.

He saw two notifications from Paulo.

The first was a simple two-worded text reading: _We’re okay_.

Alvaro smiled. Paulo always knew what to say. He always knew what Alvaro was thinking, how Alvaro was feeling, what Alvaro was too afraid to say or do.

The second was a notification from Instagram: _paulodybala tagged you in a photo._

Alvaro opened it. It was a photo of just their hands, fingers tightly intertwined. Alvaro remembered when it was taken. It was in the back of the car, when Alvaro’s dad was driving them to the airport for Alvaro’s flight. Just a little slice of Paulo’s tattoo was visible. Alvaro was wearing a long-sleeved hoodie that was a bit oversized and hung way over his wrist. Paulo had applied a black and white filter over the photo.

Alvaro felt the world settle around him for a moment as he stared at the photograph. It was mesmerising. Alvaro’s hand far too big, Paulo’s hand far too small. Clasping together for dear life, nonetheless, fingers graceful and gentle like dancers in mid-performance.

The caption read, _Even the Atlantic Ocean in its entirety wasn’t able to tear us apart. Just a tiny portion of the Mediterranean Sea doesn’t stand a chance._

Alvaro tried blinking away his tears but to no avail. He ended up a loud, sobbing mess, tucked almost all the way under his sheets, tears making little plopping noises as they landed on his pillow. He missed Paulo already, and Paulo was right there, in France with him.

He eventually composed himself enough to double tap the photo and leave a comment.

_We are invincible._

\------

Paulo was the first to run down to the side of the pitch after the final whistle for the match between Spain and Italy had been blown.

He saw a mixture of emotions on the pitch. He saw his teammates celebrating – Leo, Andrea, Gigi, Simone, Stefano, and Giorgio all had big smiles on their faces as they walked around the pitch, excitedly congratulating their own teammates.

And then he saw Alvaro, walking dejectedly around and receiving hugs from his Spanish teammates and some of his Juve ones, including a super big one from Gigi. He waited patiently for Alvaro to get nearer, but Alvaro just drifted around nearer the middle.

So Paulo just. Just jumped over the advertisement hoardings and ran straight onto the pitch, and the security people moved towards him but stopped when they saw who he was and were suddenly unsure if they were supposed to catch him. Paulo took the chance their confusion gave him and made a beeline for Alvaro, waving his hand in a thumbs-up towards his Juve teammates in the Italian team.

He crashed straight into Alvaro before Alvaro noticed him. Alvaro took only a moment to respond, though, his arms snaking so tightly around Paulo that Paulo couldn’t breathe.

“Paulo,” he whispered breathlessly, like he was about to cry. “Paulo. Paulo.”

“Shhh,” Paulo whispered back, pressing his lips to Alvaro’s collarbones. He felt a drop of Alvaro’s tears hit the top of his head before Alvaro frantically buried his face in Paulo’s hair. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again.

“It’s okay,” Paulo breathed. Alvaro couldn’t cry. Alvaro was losing control and he couldn’t cry, not here, Alvaro couldn’t cry. “Hey. Alvi. Don’t cry, please, baby, please don’t cry.”

“It’s over,” Alvaro sobbed softly.

“It’s not,” Paulo pulled away from the hug and pressed his head against Alvaro’s, his hands tightly holding both sides of Alvaro’s head. “Hey. Alvaro. Listen to me. It’s never over until you stop trying. You guys didn’t make it this time, but so what? You still have the next time. And the next, and the next, and the next. Alvaro. You’re only twenty-three. You’re going to get so many more chances. You’re going back to Madrid and you’re going to play for the European club champions, the only club who has won the Champions League eleven fucking times, and fuck, Alvaro. Don’t you ever dare to say it’s over. It’s not fucking over.”

Only at the end of that rant did Paulo realise he only said it with so much zest because he was also trying to convince himself that _he and Alvaro_ weren’t over.

Alvaro closed his eyes as Paulo placed his thumbs below them to catch the runaway tears. “I love you so much, Paulo Bruno Dybala.”

“Don’t cry now, okay?” Paulo said softly. “Later, in your room, you can cry all you want.”

“Will you come over?”

“Can I?”

“I guess so. Now that we don’t have any more matches.”

“Okay, text me your room.”

“And I can cry, yeah? I can cry and you’ll hold me and I’ll be a big mess but you won’t love me any less?”

“Not even one tiny bit less,” Paulo promised.

Alvaro planted his lips gently on Paulo’s. They were warm and soft and Paulo’s favourite feeling in the whole universe. He wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s neck and pulled Alvaro closer, his heart jumping like a firework when Alvaro smiled against his lips.

“You think people are taking photos of us right now?” Alvaro whispered.

And Paulo. Paulo was so relieved Alvaro was cracking a joke. “Would you care?” he asked.

“No, just means I’ve got more photos to post on Instagram.”

Paulo laughed. Alvaro was just. Just so innocent. Paulo loved it. Paulo loved him.

\------

Paulo went to Alvaro’s room after he’d showered. He heard Alvaro’s feet shuffling on the ground as he got to the door, and he saw Alvaro’s dishevelled face and crumpled t-shirt as he stood there in the doorway staring at Paulo dejectedly.

Paulo stepped inside and shut the door, gently pushing Alvaro with a hand on his shoulder. He got Alvaro to the bed, which was all messed up, evidence that Alvaro had been lying in it before Paulo came. He climbed in together with Alvaro and let Alvaro curl up against him.

He waited until the tears came; Paulo waited until he felt Alvaro start to quiver in his arms and press himself more tightly against Paulo. He pulled Alvaro’s face into his chest and wrapped his legs around Alvaro’s waist, resting his chin on top of Alvaro’s ticklish stubbly hair. He wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s head and cradled it like a baby.

And Paulo started to cry, too, not because Alvaro’s Spain had lost but because he knew Alvaro wasn’t only crying because of this loss. Alvaro was crying because of everything that had accumulated over the past month or so, and Paulo had tried so hard to hold it all in but he realised he could no longer do it. Not when he saw Alvaro like this, when he knew Alvaro had been trying to be strong just like Paulo was, and Alvaro couldn’t take it anymore. The most stable person in Paulo’s life, the most immovable, most dependable person in Paulo’s life – even _he_ couldn’t take it anymore.

Paulo knew they were always going to be okay. He knew that nothing would ever change how he felt about Alvaro. Nothing had _ever_ , not even ten thousand kilometres.

But it didn’t mean that this wouldn’t change how they chose to act on those feelings.

After all, part of why they had pushed the relationship away again and again was because they were separated. Because they knew that long-distance hadn’t been something they were ready to get into.

But what if – what if they still weren’t ready for that?

Paulo was tired. He was tired of thinking about it. He would gladly live in this world, this world where he could wake up to Alvaro every single morning, forever. He would gladly stop time right then if it meant they could continue being like this. And he realised that Alvaro was so upset that Spain had been eliminated _exactly_ because the sooner this tournament was over for Alvaro, the sooner they would have to start their separate lives.

He held Alvaro tightly, softly whispering into what was left of his hair, “It’s okay. Baby, it’s okay, Alvi, baby, I love you and everything is going to be okay,” over and over and over again, even though he wasn't sure if he was saying the truth.

He didn’t stop until Alvaro was asleep; and only then did Paulo manage to get some rest himself.


	44. It's No Secret That The Both Of Us Are Running Out Of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, update on the Franco/Isco spinoff: I've already started to write it and the title will be Come A Little Closer. I'll start posting it together with the last chapter of this work and I'll give you guys the link + add both that and this one to the same series :)
> 
> Again, thank you all for your kudos and comments and I'm always contactable via a comment here, or on [tumblr](https://incredybala.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/debushy). You can also check out the [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/3VhjeM5HLitEyiMD7xCs1I) :) I am also coming up with a list of little trivia about the characters (the four mains) along with some little messages which I may either have meant to embed in them or that they've accidentally taught me along the way. I'll also post it with the final chapter. I've grown so attached to this fic it's difficult to imagine what will happen when it ends, but ah, we'll see then. Thank you and enjoy!
> 
> Title is from Hello by Adele.

Their schedules meant that Paulo and Alvaro only had a little more than a week together before Paulo’s training started again, and three weeks before Alvaro officially had to return to Madrid.

It felt strangely similar to the situation in 2009, when they’d met during the training camp. Three weeks, four weeks – and then nothing.

Paulo and Alvaro flew back to Turin, where Alvaro packed up everything he had left in his Juve locker and left. There was no time for goodbyes. Practically no one was in Vinovo. Everyone was either on vacation or still playing in France. Alvaro couldn’t have said goodbye to anybody even if he’d wanted to.

He appeared rather upset about it when they were in the car on the way back home to pack more of Alvaro’s things. He was quiet all the way and kept fiddling with his phone, unlocking it only to lock it again a second later.

“What is it, Alvi?” Paulo asked as he navigated the roads.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“You can send a text to the group,” Paulo suggested. “But maybe when everyone’s back so they aren’t too busy to read it.”

“It’s different,” Alvaro said. “I really like these guys. I wanted to say goodbye in person. And I wanted to tell them how important it is to me that they take care of you.”

Paulo smiled. “I don’t need them to take care of me, Alvaro.”

“When you feel lonely, or,” Alvaro shrugged. He turned his head down to his lap. “You know, yeah.”

“It’s okay. I have Paul. Simo, Maxi, both Marios, everybody. I’ll be okay.”

A long pause from Alvaro. “You don’t know if Paul’s leaving.”

“I’ll still have the others.”

“And Simo keeps talking about getting loaned away.”

“And the others.”

“Maxi’s going away, too.”

“I’ll have Gonzalo if he comes,” Paulo said. He had no idea why Alvaro was so convinced that Paulo was going to be lonely. And so determined to make Paulo feel the same by pointing out how everyone was leaving. Paulo didn’t like to think about how everybody close to him was leaving. But he knew that Alvaro was only doing this because he cared. Because he didn’t want Paulo to have no one to go to when he had another of those pre-season breakdowns. “You know, if everything is true. Pipa’s great.”

A long, long pause from Alvaro.

“You and Pipa,” Alvaro started slowly. He knew Gonzalo from Real Madrid. “You’re close?”

Paulo burst into laughter. “What, Alvi, are you jealous?”

“I’m not,” Alvaro pouted.

“You are! You so are!”

“I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“I won’t be lonely, Alvi,” Paulo said. “I’ll call you if I am. Okay?”

Alvaro nodded, and he was smiling and Paulo was once again struck by how easy it was to make Alvaro happy. “Paulo, can I say something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Is it bad that I’m happy to go back to Madrid? You know, besides…besides the fact that we have to be apart. Everything else, the football, everything. I’m happy about that.”

Paulo felt this strange mixture of feelings, like. Like pride and jealousy and nostalgia all mushed up together. Sure, he was proud that Alvaro was going to play for Real Madrid again. But there was definitely a part of him that wished Alvaro didn’t have to go. A very big part of him.

“Why would it be bad?” Paulo asked. “You grew up there. It’s a huge club. There’s nothing to feel bad about for being excited to play there.”

Alvaro smiled again. “I’m happy that they still want me because of my football. That…that being with you, it didn’t change their mind.”

“Hey, d’you think you could tell them to insert a clause saying that I have to come with you?”

Alvaro turned and. And just stared at Paulo. He looked like his eyeballs were going to pop out. “You want to come to Real Madrid?” Alvaro asked slowly.

Paulo burst into more laughter. Alvaro was so fucking _adorable._ “I’m kidding, baby.”

“No, do you?”

“No. I’m happy here. At Juve.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said quietly. “Football first, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m still really happy that they still want me. That I’m not like, blacklisted just ‘cause I’m gay.”

“That’s a really good thing, yeah,” Paulo smiled. Things _were_ going pretty good in terms of football, despite their personal circumstances.

Then it was silent all the way home, but when Alvaro got out of the car he ran right over to Paulo’s side and enveloped him in a gigantic hug that knocked all the air out of Paulo’s lungs.

“I’m so happy I have you,” he kissed the top of Paulo’s head.

“Yeah?” Paulo giggled. “Me, too. Jealous freak.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“You totally are,” Paulo said. “Alvi. You don’t have to be jealous of anyone. Okay? _No one_ comes close to you. No one at all in this entire universe will come as close as who you are to me.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro grinned. “Yeah. No one will ever come close to who you are to me, either.”

“Not even Isco? Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be jealous,” Paulo pointed out. “You were the one making out with Isco that time.”

“Fuck, that was like a million years ago!” Alvaro exclaimed. Actually, it was three years. “And I didn’t make out with him!”

“You so did! Is he a good kisser?”

“Fuck you, Pau,” Alvaro shoved Paulo aside. “I almost pushed him off the balcony, okay, I felt so guilty about the kiss.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I was only ever meant to kiss you.”

Paulo smiled shyly. He said nothing, just watched the frustrated lines on Alvaro’s forehead iron themselves out. And then turn into happy lines as Alvaro smacked him on the shoulder.

“Damn it, Paulo, why do you always make me say mushy things?”

Paulo flashed him a grin. “You wouldn’t say them if you hadn’t been thinking of them, so it’s all you, baby.”

Alvaro let go of him and reached into the backseat to retrieve his box of things before storming into the building. Paulo followed, laughing his head off. He loved teasing Alvaro. It was no secret that Alvaro loved teasing him, too. It was why they had so much fun.

He helped Alvaro pack all his stuff into boxes, some of which were going to be put in Paulo’s apartment and the rest, mostly clothes, sent back to Madrid.

Alvaro had really little things, so they were done in a few hours. The house looked pretty bare, even with all the furniture intact.

“You’re gonna stop renting this?” Paulo asked as they stood in the middle of the living room. There was dust on the TV console shaped like the bottoms of photo frames. And the bottom of Paulo’s Lego sculpture that Alvaro had never shut up about.

“I guess, yeah,” Alvaro said softly. “No point.”

“And you’ll buy one in Madrid?”

“Maybe,” Alvaro said. “Will you help me pick one out? I’ll send you photos.”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. He ignored the small pain in his chest that appeared when he realised he couldn’t be there to choose it with Alvaro. “Of course.”

They stuffed everything in the car and drove it like, fifty meters down the street to Paulo’s house, where they unloaded everything again. It was an extremely mundane task, but Paulo enjoyed doing it with Alvaro. It was just. It was so _domestic._ If only it hadn’t meant Alvaro was leaving.

Alvaro already had some clothes at Paulo’s place, though it was only just two or three t-shirts. They had this habit where they’d just alternate between both their apartments when they ran out of clothes and had to do the laundry. But Paulo had cleared a space in the dresser and the wardrobe for Alvaro, whichever he preferred, in case he had clothes he wanted to leave in Turin.

Alvaro was so fucking _elated_ when he was told. He immediately grabbed his duffel bag and unloaded the three other t-shirts he had in it – _man,_ Paulo really needed to get more t-shirts for him that weren’t black or grey or white – and placed them in the empty space in the dresser. He sat on the bed facing it and started smiling to himself even though the dresser was closed.

“You going crazy?” Paulo asked, sitting next to him.

“No,” Alvaro said gleefully.

Paulo leaned his head on Alvaro’s shoulder, not exactly sure what Alvaro was staring at that was making him so happy. But he loved that Alvaro was happy, so.

“Hey,” Alvaro suddenly said, nudging Paulo’s head off his shoulder. “I wanna show you something.”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro reached into his duffel bag again and pulled out – and pulled out _Paulo’s Instituto jersey._ The one from seven years ago. The oversized one Paulo wore as a fifteen-year-old. Paulo wondered if it was still oversized on him.

“It has never left my side since you gave it to me,” Alvaro whispered.

“You brought it here?” Paulo asked. “To Turin?”

“Of course,” Alvaro smiled. “It’s good luck.”

Paulo got up and went to the dresser, opening the drawer that was half Alvaro’s and digging in it until he found what he was looking for – Alvaro’s Spain jersey from 2009.

“I’ve got yours, too,” he said, brandishing it as he turned back around.

“Yeah?” Alvaro grinned. “You brought it to Turin, too?”

“Like you said. Good luck.”

“I have these too,” Alvaro said, digging in his bag again and pulling out Paulo’s pink Palermo jersey and Paulo’s Juventus jersey from when they played their first game together.

Paulo beamed at him before turning back to the dresser and pulling out the two shirts from the same occasions – two of Alvaro’s Juventus shirts.

“Come here,” Alvaro said, opening his arms wide and then pulling Paulo to sit in his lap once Paulo took a step towards him. He planted a few soft kisses all over Paulo’s face, and then his lips. “When I play my first match for Real Madrid,” he said in between all the pecks. “You get my jersey.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “You’ll get mine, too. We’ll swap.”

“And look,” Alvaro unfolded Paulo’s Instituto jersey and wrung it out until something fell out of it. The porn magazine from Valencia. “I still have this.”

“Fuck,” Paulo burst into laughter. He picked the magazine up and flipped through it. “These girls are probably like, fifty years old now.”

“You’re so bad at math. They can’t be fifty. They’d have to be forty in those pics.”

“Whatever, you get what I’m saying,” Paulo said. It was a slip of the tongue. Paulo felt like he had known Alvaro for twenty years.

“Maybe they’re thirty.”

“Yeah, you know girls so well.”

Alvaro gave him a gentle shove but then grabbed him and hugged him again. “Love you,” he cooed.

“Love you, too,” Paulo smiled.

They sat there in their pile of jerseys and talked and talked and talked the night away, and it made them feel like they were sixteen again.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro had their first summer vacation together in Ibiza.

Where else could it be, really? Alvaro loved going to Ibiza, for some reason. And it was in Spain, so they didn’t have to deal with jet lag or exhaustion from flying. They had a week there, so they spent the first few days exploring the non-beachy attractions on the island. It was more of Paulo’s idea, really, because all Alvaro wanted to do was laze around on the beach all day and do nothing at all.

But it was Paulo’s first time there and he had to do _everything_. He got himself a tiny little handbook and made it a point to cross out every place they went to and he brought it _everywhere_ and he got this really childish delighted look on his face whenever they managed to cross one out and. And Alvaro was so fucking fond and he had no idea how he’d managed to deal with Paulo all these years. But he made it a point to ask for a kiss from Paulo every time they crossed one out, as a reward for Alvaro sitting through all of it. And then they’d go to the beach to watch the sunset and Paulo never stopped smiling.

Their legs were about to fall off after like, three days of walking everywhere, so Alvaro finally managed to convince Paulo to spend an entire day on the beach.

Paulo spent his time alternating between lying down trying to get a tan, pestering Alvaro to slap on more sunblock for him, and watching the waves hit the shore.

Alvaro spent all his time watching Paulo.

He loved that, for the past few days at least, they were able to forget everything. They were able to forget that time was ticking like a bomb about to go off, that their time together was running out. That this week in Ibiza was practically the very last time in a long time that they would get to spend together, side by side, falling asleep to each other’s face and waking up to the same.

If a doctor told Alvaro right then that he only had one week to live, he would spend it just like this, with Paulo, in Ibiza, exploring every single place Paulo wanted to just so Alvaro could see him smile.

The next day, they levelled up their vacation and got a private yacht.

Paulo sat on the front deck of the yacht and stared ahead at the horizon, where the bright blue sea blended perfectly with the azure sky. Paulo’s back muscles shimmered with a mixture of sunblock and sea mist under the sunlight. His hair was blown back on his head, a few stray strands bouncing along with the wind.

Alvaro stood at the cabin door just. Just staring at Paulo’s back. Paulo looked so small. Alvaro wanted to cuddle him all day. Or pack him up in a tiny box and carry him everywhere. And despite a violent urge pulling him towards Paulo, Alvaro just stood there. He had to get used to this. He had to get used to watching Paulo from a distance.

But Paulo eventually turned around and, upon seeing Alvaro creeping on him, gave a vibrant, knowing smile. He waved at Alvaro to go over and join him.

Alvaro went and sat behind Paulo so that Paulo was between his legs. He wrapped his arms around Paulo’s waist and pressed his cheek into the middle of Paulo’s warm back. Paulo wrapped his little fingers around Alvaro’s hands and squeezed them.

“This is really nice,” he said.

Alvaro moved to rest his head on Paulo’s shoulder. The movement of the sea was mesmerising. It felt like they were in some kind of blue heaven. “Yeah,” he whispered against the back of Paulo’s ear.

“Alvaro,” Paulo said softly, his voice almost lost with the wind.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the end?”

Alvaro didn’t have an answer for him. He knew that _he_ didn’t want this to be the end. But he didn’t know about Paulo. Paulo was still chasing his dream. His dad’s dream. Alvaro didn’t want to be the one to hold him back. Alvaro didn’t want to be his biggest distraction. Football always came first for Paulo, and Alvaro got that.

“Do you want it to be?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo went quiet for a short while, then, “Do you?”

Alvaro knew they could never go back to being just friends. _Never_. Not after they had shared something so magical, so strong and fierce and passionate. Not after the last seven years. They couldn’t go back to being friends. It was either this or it was nothing.

“Paulo, I will always love you.”

“Me, too,” Paulo smiled and Alvaro felt it against his cheek. “I will always love you too, Alvaro. Always.”

Alvaro knew what Paulo was asking. He was asking if the fact that they loved each other was strong enough to overcome the strain the distance would put on their relationship. Because after all, after everything, all that they had ever talked about was how the distance would never make them stop loving each other.

They hadn’t talked about how the distance would make a relationship impossible _despite_ the fact that they still loved each other.

It was a million times more painful. Knowing what it could have been, but what it would possibly never be, and having both be the exact same thing.

Alvaro didn’t have an answer for Paulo. He didn’t know if the pressure they were definitely going to receive from the public, overanalysing every single aspect of their relationship – he wasn’t sure if they could handle it. He didn’t know what the Real Madrid board, what his coach, what his Real Madrid teammates thought about it. He didn’t know if he was just going to be a burden to Paulo, if after everything, Paulo would be better off without Alvaro as a heavy stone holding back his football career. What if Paulo wanted to play for Barcelona? They couldn’t play for rival teams or the media would literally explode. What if Real Madrid faced Juventus in the Champions League? What was Alvaro going to do? The conflict of interest was so much larger than he had expected.

Alvaro remembered that discussion he’d had with Isco about whether it was easier to be in a relationship with a teammate or someone on another team.

He had the answer now. Alvaro had the answer – it was easier to be in a relationship with a teammate. It eliminated all the pesky variables.

But this answer was useless. It gave him no clue to what the bigger answer was supposed to be.

So Alvaro just wrapped his arms more tightly around Paulo in a big hug he never wanted to let go of, and he hoped with all his heart that Paulo understood this just like how he’d understood every other thing that had ever crossed Alvaro’s mind.

\------

On their last night in Ibiza, when they were both nice and chill in bed, Alvaro turned to Paulo and asked, “Remember what we did on Valentines’ Day?”

Of course Paulo remembered. He didn’t think he would ever forget. “Yeah.”

“Do you…wanna do it?” Alvaro asked timidly. “Like…for real?”

“Like…” Paulo gestured at the air in front of him. “With my dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Right now? Right here?”

“I mean…” Alvaro said. “Better now, when we still have the chance, yeah? And as, like. A parting gift. And…you know. For memories’ sake.”

 _Like breakup sex_ , was the first thought that crossed Paulo’s mind. He tried desperately to shake it off but he failed.

“Yeah,” he said, despite his racing heart. “Let’s make a fuckton of good memories.”

Alvaro beamed at the suggestion. He got up and went over to his suitcase, returning with two tubes of lube and a box of condoms.

“I didn’t know if one was enough,” he explained.

“You were planning this all along?” Paulo asked. “You minx.”

Alvaro giggled as Paulo grabbed everything from him and dumped it on the bed before pushing Alvaro down on his back and climbing to sit on him, legs straddling Alvaro’s waist. Paulo held Alvaro’s face gently in both his hands, his eyes travelling over every inch of Alvaro’s face. He loved this image. He loved Alvaro happy, smiling, blissful – everything good. He wanted to capture this image in his mind forever.

Alvaro was still smiling when Paulo lowered himself to kiss him. He received Paulo’s lips eagerly, surrounding Paulo’s bottom lip first with his lips and then his teeth. His hands moved from Paulo’s shoulders down his arms and then onto his waist as Paulo began to rub against him, his crotch grinding against Alvaro’s. He felt his own arousal start to pool, almost painfully slowly, as Alvaro worked the inside of his mouth with his tongue before tracing his lips down the corner of Paulo’s lips and down his jaw.

Paulo slid his hands under Alvaro’s shirt, feeling Alvaro give a soft whimper against his neck as he did so. He ran his thumbs over Alvaro’s nipples and Alvaro keened upwards, another little sound escaping his lips. It only became louder when Paulo escaped his lips and moved down to run his tongue over Alvaro’s nipples, and Alvaro was practically _writhing_ under Paulo and his hands had slid under Paulo’s pants and grabbed a hold of Paulo’s butt, roughly guiding Paulo as he continued rocking against Alvaro.

Amidst all the chaos Paulo managed to pull Alvaro’s shirt off above his head, his hands returning immediately to rest on Alvaro’s chest, the tips of his pointer fingers pressing lightly on Alvaro’s nipples because that seemed to be what made Alvaro produce the best noises. Alvaro slid – or _violently pulled_ – Paulo’s pants off his hips, hissing straight into Paulo’s mouth when he felt Paulo’s bulge against his own and. And oh, God, Paulo realised Alvaro was rock hard and Paulo fucking wanted it _in his mouth_.

He gave his hips one last thrust against Alvaro’s, the resulting moan from Alvaro combining flawlessly with the one that escaped from Paulo’s own lips. Paulo crawled his way backwards down Alvaro’s body, pressing his lips on Alvaro’s slightly sweaty skin in a breathless path down his abdomen and to the waistband of his pants. He tugged it down over Alvaro’s erection and had Alvaro’s dick spring up and almost smack him in the fucking face, and fuck, Alvaro was so _hard_ and Paulo could see the fucking throbbing vein running down his length and Paulo was so _weak_.

“Shit, Alvi,” he breathed, more as a remark than for Alvaro to hear. He quickly dumped Alvaro’s pants aside, vaguely aware that Alvaro had propped himself up on his elbows and was currently feverishly watching Paulo. Paulo cupped Alvaro’s dick in his hand and Alvaro gasped loudly, lifting his hips off the bed and nudging Paulo’s cheek with his dick. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Alvaro whispered. He lay back down and threw his head back on the pillow. “Fuck. Shit. _Paulo._ ”

And that sound, that cry of Paulo’s name, so raw and eager and desperate, triggered Paulo into action. He lowered his lips over Alvaro’s length, holding Alvaro down by the waist when Alvaro keened upwards again eagerly. He bobbed his head up and down a few times, moistening Alvaro’s dick, taking him all the way in until he felt Alvaro hit the back of his throat.

And Paulo. Paulo didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want this, if it was going to be the last time, to end. Maybe this truly was the finish line. Maybe after this, Paulo and Alvaro would be no more. And Paulo didn’t want that to come.

He stopped, his fingers curled around the base of Alvaro’s dick. He sat back on his heels and tried to catch his breath as he watched Alvaro sigh and fidget, waiting for Paulo to continue.

When Paulo didn’t, Alvaro opened his eyes and urged, “Pau.”

“Slowly,” Paulo whispered. “Okay?”

Alvaro seemed to get it instantaneously. His gaze dampened slightly but understandingly and determinedly. He reached up towards Paulo and when Paulo leaned into his grasp, grabbed the back of Paulo’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I’m going to remember every moment of this,” he murmured against Paulo’s lips.

Paulo smiled and felt a wave a relief when Alvaro smiled back. Alvaro reached for Paulo’s underwear with eager hands and tugged it off, appearing surprised at how _hard_ Paulo was. He gave Paulo a few hard strokes before laying his palm flat, trapping Paulo’s dick between it and his own chest, allowing Paulo to thrust. And the new, welcome friction sent Paulo into a brief ecstasy, desperately gripping two handfuls of the pillow underneath Alvaro’s head in a bid not to completely lose his shit.

Alvaro grabbed Paulo’s hips again and gently pushed him up Alvaro’s chest until the tip of his dick reached Alvaro’s lips. Alvaro ran his tongue over Paulo’s slit, once and twice and on the third time Paulo saw stars again. But Alvaro only continued, taking only the tip of Paulo’s dick into his mouth and sucking on it gently, and shit, Paulo was just. Just suddenly overcome with this wave of fondness, and he knew it was a weird fucking time to feel _fond_ but he _did_ because he suddenly realised how far Alvaro had come – from being scared to fuck Paulo on their first time, to being unsure of the role of teeth in blowjobs on their second, to being so eager to try anal and all the little times in between when no sort of penetration was needed, and. And Alvaro had changed so much, he had changed and grown and he could give a proper blowjob now, and Paulo just. Paulo loved him so much he felt like he could explode.

“Hey,” Alvaro whispered, taking Paulo out of his mouth and moving to curl his fingers around Paulo’s thighs. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, hurriedly blinking the slight wetness in his eyes away. “Yeah.”

Alvaro adjusted Paulo’s position until he could pull Paulo down to kiss him again. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered back. He quickly buried his face in the crook of Alvaro’s neck as tears pricked the back of his eyes again. Paulo never wanted to let go. He never wanted to let go.

Paulo took one of the extra pillows and placed it under Alvaro’s back, distracting himself by crouching down again, one of his hands cupping Alvaro’s dick and the other running a finger over Alvaro’s hole. Alvaro gave a nod when Paulo turned to him for the signal, so Paulo lowered his head between Alvaro’s legs and ran his tongue over Alvaro’s entrance, using his spit to moisten it. Alvaro gave a little gasp and a jerk of the hips, but pushed Paulo’s head down to urge him to continue, so Paulo didn’t stop.

He continued teasing Alvaro’s hole, both with his tongue and his fingers, until Alvaro was stretched enough to take Paulo’s finger. And then two. Paulo swirled his spit around Alvaro’s entrance again, only stopping to lick the precome off Alvaro’s dick. If this was the last time he was going to taste Alvaro – if this was the last time, Paulo wanted to taste _everything_.

“You think you’re good now?” he asked softly, sliding two of his fingers back into Alvaro’s hole, just for effect.

“I think, yeah,” Alvaro breathed hard, like he was timing his breaths to the rhythm Paulo was moving his fingers to. “Yeah.”

Paulo reached for the box of condoms and opened a packet, stopping Alvaro from helping him put it on simply because Alvaro’s hands were shaking so fucking violently. Paulo rolled it on himself before reaching for Alvaro’s hands and squeezing them tightly.

“If it hurts,” he whispered. “If it hurts, let me know, and I’ll stop. Okay?”

Alvaro nodded, his eyes dark and eager. He lay there with his legs wide open and watched as Paulo opened one of the lube bottles and squeezed some on his palm, spreading a quarter of the blob on the condom over his dick and the rest on Alvaro’s hole. Alvaro squirmed as the lube slid inside him, giving a soft giggle.

Paulo wiped his hands on one of the t-shirts lying on the bed and climbed over Alvaro, hovering over him, the tip of his cock gently pressing on the entrance of Alvaro’s hole so Alvaro would get an idea of how it would feel like.

“You ready, baby?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro mumbled. He pulled Paulo down for a lingering kiss. “I’ll be okay, I’ll always be okay because you’ll always make sure I am.”

Paulo smiled. He didn’t think he would ever stop. He didn’t know how to stop.

He slowly tipped his body forward, the lube greatly aiding him in sliding into Alvaro. Alvaro froze completely for a long, long three seconds, just getting used to the feeling of Paulo filling him up – before he released it all in a deafening moan, one which Paulo wasn’t sure was because it hurt or because it felt good.

It quickly subsided into a whimper and Paulo only dared to edge forward a tiny bit more before he had to ask, “Alvi, baby, you okay?”

And Alvaro. Alvaro’s face was all scrunched up in a grimace, his eyebrows meeting in the middle where the deepest furrow sat, his adorable nose screwed into a ball, and his teeth frantically chomping down on his bottom lip as he desperately tried to keep all the painful sounds to himself.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he managed to whisper. “Yeah. Paulo. Just. Just don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

So Paulo edged all the way into Alvaro and kissed the resulting gasp out of Alvaro. He pushed Alvaro’s thighs further apart before moving his hands to cup Alvaro’s cheeks, gently stroking them, hoping it would take away some of the pain.

After a few slides Alvaro seemed to calm down considerably. Paulo continued moving, though, knowing how important the rhythm was. Alvaro reached out blindly and grabbed one of his hands, clutching it tightly against his chest. Paulo smiled. He loved that he managed to make Alvaro feel safe. Because Alvaro made him feel the same.

“This okay?” Paulo asked softly.

Alvaro opened his eyes and gazed around hazily until he locked eyes with Paulo. He took Paulo’s hand again and led it to his dick, making Paulo jerk him off. “Yeah,” he said. “Paulo. This is. Paulo, it’s so good.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled again. It warmed his heart that Alvaro didn’t try too hard, he didn’t try too hard to like something he didn’t just because he wanted to please Paulo. He could just be himself and Paulo would still love him all the same, and Alvaro _knew that_ and it was the reason why he had thrown all his insecurities to the wind once this relationship had started.

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro murmured.

Paulo jerked Alvaro off to the rhythm with which he thrust himself into Alvaro, spurred on by Alvaro’s occasional soft cries of “Paulo, baby, please don’t stop.” He slid the fingers of his other hand into Alvaro’s and held on tight, letting Alvaro squeeze all the blood supply out of his hand. He slowed the rhythm, both his hand and his hips, so Alvaro wouldn’t come, so _Paulo_ himself wouldn’t come, so this wouldn’t end so quickly. He leaned over Alvaro and, as his thumb ran over Alvaro’s slit repeatedly, kissed all the soft sobs from Alvaro’s lips, gobbling them up with pure hunger, with pure desire for all of Alvaro.

When Alvaro settled down again Paulo sat back up, prying his hand out of Alvaro’s and removing the other from Alvaro's now extremely moist, precome-covered dick. He grabbed Alvaro’s thighs and hoisted them over his shoulders, pushing on Alvaro so he curled up slightly off the bed. He leaned over, pushing Alvaro into a fetal position, until he could kiss Alvaro on the lips again.

“Alvi,” he whispered. “Can I go harder?”

After a short hesitation, Alvaro said, “Yeah. But just. Just slowly. Not too fast. Yeah?”

“Okay,” Paulo mouthed as he pressed his lips on Alvaro again. He thrust his hips slowly but firmly against Alvaro’s, and.

And Alvaro’s eyes popped open so immediately and widely and violently that Paulo legitimately thought they were going to dislocate from their sockets and start rolling down the bed. Those brown specks darted around anxiously for a few seconds, and then Alvaro asked, “Paulo. Shit, Paulo. Is this. Is this it? Pau.”

“Yeah,” Paulo laughed softly, knowing that he’d nailed Alvaro’s prostate. Honestly, he was pretty proud of himself. He gave his hips another thrust and listened as Alvaro gave a surprised _‘oh.’_ “You like it?”

“Fucking hell,” Alvaro muttered. “Fuck. Shit. Paulo.”

Paulo didn’t know if that was a yes or a no but he didn’t care because Alvaro didn’t seem to. He only pushed his hips towards Paulo, seemingly eager to get it going again, now that he’d found his sweet spot.

“Yeah?” Paulo said again. “Am I hurting you?”

“I – fuck. It feels. It feels so fucking good.”

Paulo smiled. He felt good, too; Alvaro felt so good being filled by him and Paulo was. Paulo was in heaven. He felt this strange mixture of urges, like he wanted to fuck the hell out of Alvaro and hear him scream but he also wanted to take care of Alvaro and make sure Alvaro was okay and good and safe. It was ferocity and it was tenderness. It was war and it was peace. And Paulo didn’t understand it but he would cherish it, nonetheless, just like he’d always cherished every emotion Alvaro managed to spark in him, even in the deepest, darkest part of his heart; every emotion that he never even knew he was capable of feeling.

Paulo strained to kiss Alvaro on the lips, his tongue wandering, matching the speed at which Paulo thrusted his hips. He moved one of his hands to Alvaro’s dick again, the other pinning Alvaro’s hand to the bed next to his head, fingers blindly sliding in between each other. In his entire life, and in all his encounters with Alvaro – Paulo had never felt so close to him. Paulo had never felt as close to Alvaro as he did in that very moment, and ironically, it was one of the last moments before they were going to be apart.

Paulo began to move faster, his hand and hips and tongue moving in tandem, hoping to provide Alvaro with the ultimate pleasure. He thrust so hard that Alvaro started to jerk every time Paulo’s hips hit his, his feet hanging over Paulo’s back and kicking it softly, and fuck, this was so fucking acrobatic and Paulo silently applauded Alvaro for being such a good sport about it all.

Alvaro started to squeeze his hand more tightly, his hips meeting Paulo’s more incoherently and his breaths starting to stutter, and Paulo knew. Paulo knew he was getting close. He thrust his dick all the way into Alvaro, as deep as he could get, knowing that it was nudging Alvaro’s prostate when Alvaro gave a harsh exhale. Staying in that position, he began to jerk Alvaro off; hard, quick strokes just like Alvaro liked, slowly moving his hips in a small circle to massage Alvaro’s prostate as he did so.

And Alvaro. Alvaro literally fucking _exploded_ all over Paulo’s hand, his hips straining upwards, his back curling off the bed and his mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Paulo started to thrust his hips again, feeling that familiar warm pool of desire in his pelvic area as he watched Alvaro spill over himself. He thrusted and nailed Alvaro’s prostate each time, causing Alvaro to yell ‘fuck’ over and over and over again, and shit, Paulo was so fucking close so he pulled out of Alvaro and practically ripped the condom off himself before starting to jerk himself off to the same rhythm at which he was still jerking Alvaro. He was so close, the very first stroke he gave himself sent a shiver down his back and him buckling over Alvaro with a soft moan.

“Shit, shit, come over here,” Alvaro wheezed, hands making greedy grabbing motions towards Paulo. Even in the midst of his orgasm, Alvaro still so unselfishly thought of Paulo’s pleasure.

Paulo let go of Alvaro’s legs, letting them thump back down on the bed, and crawled up to straddle Alvaro’s waist as Alvaro grabbed and aligned both their dicks, hips thrusting weakly to coax the rest of his orgasm out of himself. Paulo helped him by moving his own hips, rubbing his length all along Alvaro’s, spreading the come – fuck, the come that didn’t stop fucking _oozing_ from Alvaro’s cock – all over them both, all over Alvaro’s hand.

“Fuck,” Paulo muttered as he felt it building up, as he felt his orgasm start to rumble through his entire body. He collapsed over Alvaro, body convulsing, lips blindly and sloppily finding Alvaro’s. He temporarily lost every single sensation in his body except that in his dick for a few seconds as he came all over Alvaro’s hand, the white liquid joining Alvaro’s contribution already sitting on his abdomen. He opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything except for Alvaro’s embrace, one arm around him and the other hand still firmly stroking both their dicks together, the friction forcing the last drops of come out of both Paulo and himself. He couldn’t hear anything except for Alvaro gasping into his ear, short gasps of breath alternating between long gasps of words Paulo couldn’t make out.

When Paulo regained consciousness of his surroundings again he found his face buried in the crook of Alvaro’s neck, his lips wet with a combination of sweat and spit and Alvaro’s precome which he could still taste. Along with something that sort of tasted like blood.

He tilted his head to take a look at Alvaro and found him just. Just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, the same silly dazed look in his eyes that he always had after he’d come. His chest heaved up and down, bringing Paulo along with it. His legs were moving lazily, the fronts of his thighs rubbing against the backs of Paulo’s. There was a tiny drop of blood on his bottom lip where he’d bitten too hard on it. His hand was lazily tracing shapes on Paulo’s bare back, first using the tip of his middle finger, then the tip of his pointer, and then both at once.

As Paulo stared at him, Alvaro moved his other hand to scoop some of the come on his abdomen. He gave a little shudder when their dicks moved against each other again. He raised his hand to the corner of Paulo’s mouth, and Paulo obliged when he nudged it open, tasting the salty liquid on his fingers.

Alvaro smiled this. This smile that was sad and happy and nostalgic and regretful all at once. He pushed Paulo’s face back into his neck and rested his chin on Paulo’s forehead, arms curling around Paulo’s body as Paulo lay on top of him, draped over him like a blanket.

Everything was so peaceful, everything silent so suddenly after all the noise between their bodies. All the music they made, in moans and grunts and cries and gasps; in the sound of skin slapping against skin; in the whisper of palms caressing muscles and bumps and stubble, hands cut on bones, fingers tangling in hair; in the rustle of sheets as they struggled for momentum, for rhythm, for the pleasure of the other. The music that Paulo and Alvaro had always made, the music that no one else understood but which didn’t bother them because it was always a joyful melody to their own ears.

Paulo shut his eyes and revelled in the peace for a while, timing his breaths to the speed at which he rose and fell with Alvaro’s chest. He lifted his hand and found Alvaro’s bottom lip with his thumb, wiping the blood off it. He gently cupped Alvaro’s cheek, Alvaro’s perfectly cut, beautifully moulded cheek, his cheekbone like a little warm rock in the middle of Paulo’s hand.

And he felt a teardrop land on his finger.

Paulo got up immediately, propping himself up using his elbows on Alvaro’s shoulders. He gently stroked Alvaro’s cheeks and whispered. “Hey. Hey, did I hurt you?”

“No, just,” Alvaro breathed. “Just hold me. Please. Paulo, I need you to hold me.”

“Okay,” Paulo murmured, pressing his lips to Alvaro’s before draping himself over him again, momentarily forgetting how to breathe as Alvaro’s arms snaked tightly around him. “Okay. Hey. I didn’t hurt you, yeah? Really? You’re not hurt?”

“No,” Alvaro said again. “No. You didn’t hurt me. You could never.”

“Why are you crying?”

Alvaro went silent save for his quiet crying into Paulo’s neck, his stuttering sobs causing Paulo to vibrate. He pressed his lips on Paulo’s temple. “I love you.”

“Me, too,” Paulo whispered.

“Say it,” Alvaro sobbed. “Say the words.”

“I love you, Alvaro.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Don’t stop,” Alvaro begged. “Please don’t stop.”

So Paulo said it again, and again and again and again, _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , until he, too, found himself in a pool of tears, a strange tugging in his chest like someone had tied a rope to his heart and was trying to take it away. He mouthed it into the crook of Alvaro’s neck, against his cheek, in between his lips, everywhere he hoped Alvaro would save it, where he hoped Alvaro would carry it like a lucky charm, like a warm, welcoming whisper when the wind got too strong.

“I don’t want to go,” Alvaro finally whispered, after Paulo had stopped reciting the three words.

 _I don’t want you to leave,_ Paulo wanted to say. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop Alvaro without there being months and months’ worth of legal repercussions and Alvaro’s football career halting immediately. Just like how Alvaro had tried so hard to protect Paulo, Paulo now had to do the same.

“You are going to be so great,” Paulo said. “So great, Alvaro. And I am going to be so proud. Just like I always have been. You are going to do big, big things and be the most amazing footballer in the world.”

Alvaro held Paulo’s head and rested it on his own, their noses touching briefly before Alvaro leaned up for a kiss. “ _You_ are the most amazing footballer in the world,” he said.

Paulo shook his head and smiled. He knew they would never agree on this. It was impossible for them to agree.

He rolled off Alvaro and on his side, the both of them still wrapped up in a tight, sticky hug. He pulled his face away from Alvaro’s and watched Alvaro; he watched Alvaro as his eyes slowly took in every inch of Paulo’s face, like he found a renewed affection every time he did so. He watched as a stray tear escaped the side of Alvaro’s eye, moving a thumb to wipe it off. He smiled and watched Alvaro return it, although the smile had made them both start crying again.

“I love you,” he whispered as he fingers danced in a line down the side of Alvaro’s face. “Always.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered back, his hand moving to rest on the side of Paulo’s neck. “Always.”

They lay there, faces inches apart, and gazed at each other, not being able to help but smile even though tears still ran down their cheeks. And Paulo couldn’t help but think about how the last time they were in this situation, the last time one of them was in Italy and the other in Spain – they were happy. They were _overjoyed_. They made so many plans when Paulo moved to Palermo and they were so _happy._

But now, they weren’t.

Nonetheless, all those plans – they’d done them all. They’d done everything they’d ever wanted to do with each other. Alvaro had given Paulo everything Paulo had ever wanted – he had given Paulo himself. And because of that, Paulo would never, ever have a single regret.

“Paulo,” Alvaro called tenderly.

“Yeah?”

“We okay?” Alvaro said softly. He swept Paulo’s hair back off his forehead. “Yeah?”

Paulo smiled. “Always,” he said again.

“And we will be?”

“If we want us to be.”

Alvaro went quiet after that, just using his eyes to cut two garnet holes in Paulo. He fidgeted with Paulo’s hair, with Paulo’s ear. With Paulo’s nose. He took Paulo’s hand and intertwined their fingers.

“I’m never, ever going to forget this night,” he said.

“Yeah?” Paulo moved to kiss Alvaro. “You…you liked it?”

“It was fucking awesome, Paulo.”

Paulo smiled. “Then I’m never going to forget it, either.”

“You’re so fucking good,” Alvaro leaned over and planted a kiss on Paulo’s upturned lips. “You, Paulo Dybala, you’re so fucking delicious, you’re so fucking good.”

“Shut up,” Paulo giggled. “Shut up. This how you pick up girls? Or guys? This how you gonna do it in Madrid?”

“You’re hard to get. If it works on you, it’ll work on anyone else.”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did.”

And then Alvaro promptly burst into sweet, sweet laughter, and Paulo couldn’t help but join in, a bittersweet feeling right in the pit of his stomach.

“We’ll do it again sometime,” Paulo finally said, softly.

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. It was like a silent promise. A silent promise that Paulo would always want them to be them, that he would always want them to be okay, and that the next time they met, Paulo wanted to make love to him with the same intensity, the same affection, the same ferocity, the same desire and hunger, because nothing would change. _Nothing_. Paulo would still be as in love with Alvaro and he would still want to give Alvaro the entire world and he hoped Alvaro would still want to try and give it back.

Paulo hoped Alvaro got the message.

\------

They flew directly to Madrid from Ibiza and Alvaro’s things were already there, waiting in a stack of boxes in his parents’ living room.

Paulo wanted to stay. He really, really wanted to stay, but he had to go back for training before Juventus left for their Asia Tour. He only had one day with Alvaro – half a day, to be exact, because he was flying back to Turin in the night.

The only thing Paulo enjoyed about being in Madrid right then was that he could be spotted on the streets without some bogus article being written about him joining one of the Madrid clubs. That sort of neutralised the other set of transfer rumours which in turn _linked_ him to clubs in Spain just because everyone wanted him and Alvaro to be together.

He and Alvaro spent the day just strolling down the streets, re-visiting the places that Alvaro had brought Paulo when Paulo first came in 2009. They went to the diner, which was amazingly still in operation, and ordered the same paella they’d eaten on their very first time there together. They just walked around aimlessly, stopping for photographs and trying to ignore the inevitable disapproving glances which they were already so familiar with. Paulo was relieved, honestly, because it seemed like the people of Madrid accepted who they were as much as the people in Turin had.

And then it was time for Paulo to go back.

Alvaro’s dad drove them to the airport again. The both of them sat in the back of the car, holding hands, and Paulo couldn’t take his eyes off Alvaro. He watched as the occasional streetlight swept an orange glow over Alvaro’s face. He watched as Alvaro silently counted them, like he’d always liked to do, even though he had been to the airport so many times he already knew how many streetlights there were in between.

He gave Alvaro’s hand a soft squeeze. When Alvaro turned to him, distracted from his streetlight-counting, Paulo whispered, “This is home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said.

“You like it here?”

“I love it here.”

“You’re going to do great.”

Alvaro smiled. “I want to. For you.”

“You won’t…miss me, yeah?”

“Paulo, what the fuck. Of course I’ll miss you.”

“No, I mean,” Paulo gestured vaguely with his free hand. “Too much.”

“I’ll try.”

“We’ll talk. On the phone, on Skype, on anywhere.”

“Of course, Pau. Of course.”

“I’ll see you next time with like, five medals around your neck, and I’m going to be so proud of you, Alvaro, I’m going to be so fucking proud of you.”

Alvaro smiled. He moved in to kiss Paulo, their lips moving against each other in the most familiar, most homely feeling. And Alvaro started to cry again, his tears plopping down on Paulo’s nose, and Paulo pulled away, gently pressing their foreheads together.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Hey. You’re okay. We’re okay. Alvi. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro breathed. “Paulo. I’d say all these things to you, too, but I already know you’re going to do it and I’ve already told you a million times, and I’m so fucking proud of you, Paulo Dybala, for everything you’ve accomplished up until this day. And I’ll never stop being proud, I’ll never stop wanting to tell the entire world how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how much I enjoy your presence, and how proud I will always, always be of you. Even if I can’t. You know I still want to. And no matter how far you are, what you are doing, what you are feeling, I will always be right there by your side, even though I can’t physically be, even though it hurts me to think that I can’t be. I will always be right there with you. Just. Just take care of yourself when I can’t. Okay?”

Paulo nodded. This was a goodbye. _This was a goodbye._

No matter how much Paulo wanted this to go on, no matter how hard he tried to cling on to the remnants, to the dying embers of this relationship, this was a goodbye.

No matter how much they loved each other, this was a goodbye.

They were silent all the way to the airport. Alvaro helped Paulo check in his luggage, and then stood aside as his dad bundled Paulo into a big hug.

“All the best,” he said softly. “We’ll always be rooting for you.”

“Thank you,” Paulo smiled.

“You have always been good for Alvaro,” he smiled proudly, giving Paulo’s hair a fond ruffle. “You’re good for each other. I can only hope you’ll continue to be.”

He stepped aside after a soft ‘bye, Paulo,’ letting Alvaro take over.

Alvaro said nothing for a few moments, just held on to both of Paulo’s hands at Paulo’s sides, sliding his fingers in the holes between Paulo’s that seemed to have been made just for him. He examined Paulo’s entire face and smiled when their eyes met.

“So this is it, huh?” he whispered.

Paulo smiled. He lowered his gaze away from Alvaro’s intense brown eyes. “I guess.”

Alvaro leaned over, his nose nuzzling Paulo’s cheek as he sought Paulo’s lips with his own. The kiss was soft, softer than the one they’d shared in the car. It was also sweeter, a little more desperate, and with a lingering sadness. This was the last time. It was the last time.

Tears began to fall from Paulo’s eyes and he hurriedly pulled away to wipe them. “Okay,” he mumbled to himself. “Yeah, okay, okay. I’m okay.”

Alvaro wrapped his arms around Paulo and pushed Paulo’s head into his chest. His hands ran warm, soothing circles over Paulo’s back. “You’ll be great and your dad will be so proud, prouder than he ever imagined he could be.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

They stood there in each other’s embrace, just. Just silently, the bustle of the airport continuing around them, distant messages over the PA system, departures board shuffling above them. Like they were in their own little bubble.

It wasn’t the first time Paulo was leaving Alvaro at an airport, but. But it felt like the first time. Every time felt like the first time.

Alvaro eventually let go of the hug when it was time for Paulo to go inside. He gave Paulo’s shoulders a tight squeeze.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered back.

Alvaro was smiling as he held Paulo’s head tenderly in both his hands, like it was a large, precious jewel. He pressed his lips on Paulo’s, briefly.

“Bye, Pau,” he said.

“Bye, Alvi,” Paulo smiled.

Alvaro kissed him again, this time for longer, like he wanted to remember how Paulo tasted. And then he let go of Paulo – it was lucky he did, too, or Paulo would’ve just stayed there forever.

He turned back every few steps to see Alvaro just. Just standing there, gazing fondly at him, not even bothering to respond to his dad, who looked like he was trying to talk to Alvaro. Paulo walked backwards into departures as he cleared immigration, sensing and seeing the proud smile on Alvaro’s face as his eyes followed Paulo through the crowd.

He blew a kiss at Alvaro right before he lost sight of him. He saw Alvaro blow a kiss back.

Paulo turned around and faced his new life, alone, head-on, just like how he knew Alvaro – strong, independent, mature, kind, _amazing, love of his life_ Alvaro – would do. Just like how he knew Alvaro would want him to do.


	45. I Worry I Won't See Your Face Light Up Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here is the Instagram post mentioned in this chapter.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BIKXdCbh1Ys)
> 
>  
> 
> Title is from Collide by Howie Day.

Paulo didn’t call for the next three days and Alvaro almost crapped his pants with worry.

But Alvaro saw more of Isco, though, after he returned from his Dubai vacation and visiting his family in Málaga. They hung out at Isco’s place most of the time while Alvaro searched for an apartment.

By Sunday evening Alvaro had a list of apartments he was going to view in the next week. He sat with his laptop on Isco’s bed and scrolled through all the photos. All of them looked great but Alvaro had too many so he had to rule some out before even seeing them.

“D’you think the one with the big windows is nice?” Alvaro asked. “Or the one with the balcony? I like the balcony. But that one’s further from the centre of Madrid, and – fuck, are you even listening to me?”

Isco shrugged. “Do whatever you want, Alvaro.”

“You’re of no use at all,” Alvaro grumbled.

“Why don’t you ask Paulo? He’ll help you choose. He knows you better.”

Alvaro went quiet when, in fact, he was almost bursting with everything he wanted to talk to Isco about. Were he and Paulo still in a relationship? Why hadn’t Paulo called? Did Paulo think that they were over? _Were they over?_

When he snapped back into reality he saw Isco staring at him. “You guys haven’t talked, have you,” he said, deadpan.

It was Alvaro’s turn to shrug. He went back to scrolling aimlessly through the photos, aware that Isco was boring holes in his back with his stupid eyes.

And then Alvaro’s phone landed on the bed next to him with a bounce. “Call him,” Isco said.

“Right now?”

“There’s no time difference, Morata.”

“No, but…right now?”

“Do it.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said. “How’re you and Franco? Didn’t you guys hook up?”

Isco’s intense gaze softened just for a second at the mention of Franco. But it hardened right back when he realised it was all part of Alvaro’s ploy. “Don’t distract me. Call Paulo.”

Alvaro picked up his phone and dialled Paulo’s number by memory. He hesitated before pressing call, his finger hovering over the green button. He only pressed it when he saw Isco still glaring at him.

Paulo picked up the call three rings in.

“Alvi,” he said, breathless. “Hey. Hi.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said softly, suddenly just. Just overwhelmed by the sound of Paulo’s voice.

A short silence, then, “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just, training started and it got so busy and. Alvaro. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, just,” Alvaro sighed. “I got worried,” he confessed.

“No, hey,” Paulo said gently. “I’m fine.”

“No, about…about us.”

Paulo went quiet, not like he was thinking but like he genuinely didn’t know what to say.

“I miss you,” he finally said.

“I miss you, too,” Alvaro whispered, suddenly so relieved.

“I guess…I guess that’s why,” Paulo said. “Maybe that’s why I take training so hard. Maybe that’s why I’m so hard on myself. ‘Cause I miss you so much, Alvi, and if I stop doing anything for just one second it all falls down on me, it hurts and it tears me apart and I’m sorry, Alvi, I don’t know what to do and I don’t know when I can call you, when you’re not busy.”

And this. This was the part Alvaro hated the most about long-distance relationships. This was the part that always made Alvaro unsure whether he would rather the relationship carry on or if it ended. Sure, Paulo and Alvaro had done the long-distance friendship before but that was when they only ever needed to speak once every two or three days, and that was when they were relatively ore junior and infinitely less busy than they were right then. Now that they had lived together in Turin and spent every second of every day together, it was way more difficult to be apart, way more difficult to go even one hour without each other.

But he knew Paulo, and Paulo knew him – fuck, they had practically known each other for a third of their lives – and Alvaro knew that it wasn’t just going to be like that with Paulo. Alvaro knew it wasn’t going to be a strain on them because it would never be a burden for Alvaro to find some free time to talk to Paulo. _Never._

“New system,” Alvaro said softly. “We text each other whenever we’re free and want to talk on the phone. And if you don’t hear from me by the time your free window ends, text me that you’re gone. I’ll do the same. And when I look at my phone and see a message from you saying you’re free, and no message saying you’re gone, I’ll call you. Right away. Deal?”

Paulo paused for a while to take all of that in. “Deal,” he said.

“And when you really, really need to talk to me, just call me, I swear I’ll stop whatever I’m doing immediately and take your call.”

“Even if you’re pooping?”

“Even if I’m pooping.”

“Gross!” Isco called, and that was when Alvaro realised he was still there.

Paulo giggled and it was music to Alvaro’s ears. “I’m so clingy,” he said.

“I am, too,” Alvaro pointed out.

“So…” Paulo said, chuckling softly. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Alvaro scratched the back of his head. “I was. I was looking at apartments.”

“Yeah? See any you like?”

“That’s the problem. There are too many that I like. Could you…could you help me choose?”

“Of course,” Paulo said, and he sounded delighted and Alvaro was so _happy_. “Yeah. Send me photos.”

“You free now? Or…or will you be free later, like at 10, before we sleep?”

“Sure, I’ll be free at 10.”

“I’ll call you.”

“You have to be punctual, my free window is small.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do so late at night?”

“A business meeting, duh.”

“Like a new fuck buddy?”

“No!” Paulo exclaimed. “Alvaro, I’m flirting with you.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Alvaro said loudly, suddenly really embarrassed. He was blushing what felt like a dark pink. And Isco was staring at him. “He’s flirting with me,” Alvaro whispered at him.

“You’re a dense motherfucker,” Isco remarked. God, Franco was rubbing off on him.

“Talk to you later, Alvi,” Paulo said. “Tell Isco I said hi.”

“Yeah. Talk to you later.”

“Love you.”

Alvaro paused for a moment. Paulo had said it really casually, like. Like friends parting after a nice dinner. Alvaro wasn’t sure if he meant it. If they were. If they were still a thing. Alvaro felt really, really far away from Paulo and he wished that he could see Paulo, so he could tell if the conversation was going his way.

Alvaro couldn’t tell if this was already the end. He had never been good at beginnings or ends. He was good at the middle part.

“Love you, too,” he whispered, anyway. Because he _did._

Paulo gave another little chuckle before hanging up.

And when Alvaro closed his eyes, he could see Paulo smile. He wished he could see it in person.

\------

At 10pm on the dot, Paulo’s phone rang with Alvaro’s call.

“You’re pretty punctual, aren’t you,” was how Paulo greeted him.

“Only _pretty_ punctual?” Alvaro asked. “What, I called you at 10 _exactly._ ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paulo teased. “So, the apartments.”

“Let’s Skype so I can send you the photos,” Alvaro said, and then promptly hung up.

Paulo rolled his eyes. He bet Alvaro only called him because he wanted to be on the dot. Alvaro had always been so eager to prove his point. But Paulo’s computer chimed soon after with a Skype call, which Paulo answered.

They spent the next three hours scrolling through photos and arguing over which apartments were better than the others. The one with the big windows had a lot of light but also opened up to a noisy street. The one with the balcony had a tiny interior. The one closest to Alvaro’s training ground was also furthest from the amenities and the city centre. And the one right smack in the city centre was also right smack in the middle of horrible traffic.

“This is so much easier with you,” Alvaro remarked halfway though. “Isco is fucking useless. Doesn’t have an opinion on anything at all.”

Paulo laughed. “Yeah? Hey, where does he live? Maybe you can get a place near his.”

So Alvaro pointed out where Isco lived and it was a nice part of the city so they eventually settled on Alvaro viewing three apartments which formed an almost-perfect triangle around Isco’s apartment in the middle.

“He’s going to think it’s my idea,” Alvaro grumbled. Because he was a grumpy idiot. “That like, I like him or something.”

“It’s easy if you wanna hook up,” Paulo said, trying his best not to laugh but failing.

“Fuck you, Pau, I don’t want to hook up with fucking Isco.”

“Maybe _he_ wants to hook up with _you_ ,” Paulo giggled.

“Fuck off, he kissed me that _one time_!” Alvaro exclaimed, and he was so agitated he went all blurry on Paulo’s screen.

“Okay, okay,” Paulo relented. This was way too amusing. “Why didn’t you go back to renting your old apartment?”

“I want something new,” Alvaro said, pausing. “Anyway, Isco. I think he has a thing with Franco.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“He keeps changing the topic when I mention Franco. And his eyes go weird. I’ve never seen his eyes go that way, not even when he had a girlfriend and I mentioned her.”

“Ask him,” Paulo suggested.

“Ask Franco,” Alvaro suggested right back.

“Franco’s busy. He’s in the middle of a move.”

“To where?”

“Sevilla, apparently,” Paulo said, before. Before realising.

“Holy shit!” Alvaro said at the exact same time as Paulo. “He’s gonna be in Spain!” Alvaro continued.

“Maybe they…” Paulo started. “Nah, that’s not Franco. Franco doesn’t do relationships.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Alvaro sighed. “It’d be cool, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Paulo. Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, smiling. “Just like old times, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo echoed. Everything seemed very. Very dislocated. Their conversation hadn’t seemed very smooth, even though Paulo enjoyed every second of it. It seemed kind of forced. Paulo wondered if Alvaro was trying to end things but just didn’t know how. Because Alvaro had never been good at ending things.

But then again, Alvaro was the one who’d called him.

“So, um,” Alvaro started again. “When are you leaving for Australia?”

“Saturday,” Paulo replied. “And you, where are you going?”

“Canada,” Alvaro said.

They would literally be on the furthest ends of the earth from each other for their pre-seasons. If that wasn’t a sign, Paulo didn’t know what else it could be.

“Hey,” Alvaro said, when Paulo didn’t reply. “You okay? You’re kinda quiet.”

“Yeah, just,” Paulo shrugged. “We’ll talk…yeah?”

“Yeah. Whenever we can.”

“I don’t remember it being this hard,” Paulo whispered.

“Me neither,” Alvaro whispered back. “But…but we’ll be okay. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. “Always.”

“So,” Alvaro cleared his throat. “Tell me what’s happening. How’re the new guys? Do you have anyone to hang out with?”

Paulo burst into laughter. Alvaro sounded like a parent. “Yeah, one new guy turned up for training. Pjanić, from Roma? Miralem. He’s really cool. He speaks Spanish.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “That’s nice.”

“He also speaks like five hundred other languages,” Paulo added. “I’ll guess I’ll get to hang out more with him in Australia.”

“Have fun for me, yeah?”

“You have fun in Canada for me. Yeah?”

“Deal.”

“Do you have anyone to hang out with?” Paulo shot Alvaro’s question right back at him.

Alvaro laughed. “Yeah. Paulo, I already know everyone.”

“That’s nice,” Paulo said. “It really is. To go home.”

“One day, after you’ve played in all the leagues you wanna play in and won all the trophies that can possibly be won, you’ll go back home too, to Córdoba, and you’ll be a fucking _hero_ , Paulo. Everyone will be cheering for you long after you retire, everyone will be calling your name, everyone will think of you, along with Messi, when they think of Argentina. You are going to be so fucking big, Paulo Dybala.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. He closed his eyes, hoping Alvaro couldn’t see his tears from the pixelated screen. He lay down face-down on the bed, resting his cheek right in front of his laptop. He loved listening to Alvaro tell him how great he was going to be. He loved that in this world, besides his mom and his brothers, there was this one person who believed in him so much that no mistake Paulo made could ever be big enough to shake this faith.

“Mmhmm. You’ll always be the best, Paulo, _always._ ”

They stayed up for most of the night, talking about nothing until they fell asleep, Paulo closely after Alvaro. Just like old times. It felt just like old times.

\------

On the day Alvaro returned to training, he was called into the conference room before he could get outside.

And Zidane was in there, along with one other board member.

Alvaro sat down cautiously across the table from them. This seemed eerily similar to what had happened with Allegri and Alvaro was temporarily numbed by a sense of déjà vu.

But the difference was, this time he didn’t have Paulo next to him, holding his hand.

“Alvaro,” Zidane said cheerfully. “Hi, welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro said.

“Sorry for the surprise, but this is just a really short talk, and then we’ll head outside for practice.”

Alvaro nodded.

“So, maybe as you might expect, we want to talk to you about your…about your relationship. With Paulo Dybala from Juventus.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. Maybe this was truly the end. Maybe they were going to give him an ultimatum. Break up with Paulo or no football. At least then, Alvaro would know where he and Paulo stood.

But instead, Zidane continued, “We want to provide you with the same level of support that Juventus has given you. But it’s different now. You two play for different clubs. There are other things to take into account.”

“I understand,” Alvaro said.

“The most pressing issue to us is the conflict of interest. If Real Madrid need to play against Juventus for any reason at all, we want to let you know that you can choose to sit the match out. It will be for both your good and the team’s. And on that note, if I choose to bench you for said match, you must understand that it could be for this same reason.”

Alvaro nodded. That seemed fair. “Got it.”

“Secondly, I know you have the right to follow whichever team you wish to follow. I just hope that you won’t lose focus of which team you play for.”

Alvaro nodded again. “Paulo and I have played for different teams before, and even against each other,” he said. Even though, well. That was before they got into a relationship. But Alvaro hadn’t loved Paulo any less. “We can deal with it.”

“Good,” Zidane said proudly. “I watched the press conference you two gave. I must say you did very well. It’s revolutionary, what you two have done, and Real Madrid are proud to have you as a player.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro smiled, just. Just so glad for the final, verbal confirmation of the support from his new club. Well, not exactly new, but. But also new, in context. Madrid seemed to accept him like how Turin had done. “I’m proud to play for Real Madrid.”

“One last thing before we go outside,” Zidane said. “I think, and I hope, that your teammates are supportive. Have any of them started treating you differently or explicitly stating that they don’t support you?”

Alvaro shook his head. It wasn’t a big surprise to him that his teammates were okay with it, but he knew it was still something to be concerned about by the higher-ups.

“If anyone does, or if you need someone to talk to, you can come to me or the club counsellor.”

“Sure,” Alvaro said. “Thanks, boss.”

“Let’s go now,” Zidane flashed him a warm smile before getting up and waiting for Alvaro. He gave Alvaro a friendly slap on the back as they walked through the door.

Alvaro walked into the fresh sunshine outside feeling a renewed sense of hope. This was one of the last pieces of the jigsaw Alvaro didn’t even realise he was trying to put together.

The very last piece was Paulo himself.

\------

Alvaro was seriously jetlagged when they arrived in Montreal. Isco was his neighbour, but he was more of a roommate because he just went and camped in Alvaro’s room, and – well, let’s just say that Alvaro had forgotten how _annoying_ Isco was.

“Would you just shut the fuck up for one second and let me sleep?” Alvaro finally snapped.

Isco went quiet immediately, but. But literally only for one second.

“If you sleep now, you’re going to wake up in the middle of the night when it’s morning in Madrid,” he said softly, like it had been his plan all along to be irritating as fuck and prevent Alvaro from sleeping. “And then your body clock will be Spanish for the rest of this trip.”

Alvaro opened his eyes. Isco was sitting in the armchair looking earnestly at him, and Alvaro suddenly remembered the exact words Paulo had said to him on their second day together in 2009: _I mean…if I go to sleep now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. And then my body clock will always be Argentine._

And Alvaro. Alvaro started to cry, which was fucking _stupid_ because this reminded him so much of Paulo but this was _Isco_ and Alvaro had known him _forever_ and he was nowhere near who Paulo was to Alvaro, and. And fuck, this was embarrassing as fuck and Alvaro rolled away from Isco so Isco didn’t have to see him cry.

“Hey,” Isco said gently, hurrying over to the bed. Alvaro felt the mattress dip as Isco sat down. “Hey. Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry. Alvaro. Hey.”

“I’m fine,” Alvaro hissed.

Isco gently placed a warm palm on Alvaro’s back. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

There was a long pause as Isco contemplated what to say. “Okay,” he finally said, softly. “I’ll go back, then. Let you sleep.”

And then he stood up, and Alvaro cracked an eye open to see him walking hesitantly towards the door, like he wasn’t completely sure if he should leave Alvaro alone. Alvaro shut his eyes again.

“I feel so alone,” he said.

Isco’s footsteps stopped. There was the shuffle of a turn, and then footsteps walking back towards the bed and the same dip of the mattress.

“Why do you say that?” Isco asked, more tenderly than Alvaro had ever heard him speak. “You’re not alone.”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said.

“You do. You know,” Isco said. “Tell me why.”

Alvaro sighed. He opened his eyes and saw Isco sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him with a concerned, understanding look in his eyes.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

The edges of Isco’s lips twitched upwards, like he’d known that was coming. “What about Paulo?” he asked.

“He’s my entire world,” Alvaro said softly, a lump forming in his throat from fresh tears. “He has always been. And now I just. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what we are. It feels so…forced. It doesn’t feel right. And he’s on the other side of the earth and I can’t talk to him and I miss him so much, I miss him and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what we are and I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Haven’t you talked about it? About where you stand?”

“A little?” Alvaro shrugged. “We sort of have. I mean, he asked me if it was the end. And I asked him if we would be okay.”

“And what did you say?” Isco urged. “What did he say?”

Alvaro paused, realising. Realising that they hadn’t given each other any answers. It had always been questions.

 _Is this the end?_  
_Do you want it to be?_  
 _Do you?_

 _We okay? Yeah?_  
_Always._  
 _And we will be?_  
 _If we want us to be._

There had never been a solid answer. Never a solid _yes, Alvaro, we will be okay, our relationship will be okay, we won’t just disintegrate into nothing just because we’re separated by a tiny patch of sea._

“So you _haven’t_ talked about it,” Isco said. “It isn’t talking if you don’t decide on anything, Alvaro.”

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” Alvaro whispered, suddenly in complete, utter _fear_.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Isco said. “The day he doesn’t want you anymore is the day the world fucking ends. And even then, he’d still want you, ‘cause you two will be the ones doing some romantic shit like dying in each other’s arms.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro sobbed.

“Look,” Isco shimmied closer to Alvaro on the bed. “You have to talk to him. You have to let him know that you’re in this, that you want this a hundred percent. It’s no good to leave things just. Just hanging like that. It’s never good. And…you want this, yeah? You’re in this?”

“Of course I am,” Alvaro said. “I can’t lose him. I can’t even go back to being friends with him, even though I know that’s the most minimum Paulo and I will ever be. I – I just can’t.”

“You have to tell him that,” Isco said kindly. “Maybe he’s being so awkward because he doesn’t know what to do, either. He doesn’t know if you’d want this to continue because – fuck, honestly, Alvaro, you’ve never been one to carry on a long-distance relationship. It was always ‘you’re leaving, okay, bye-bye’ with every girl you met, ever. Paulo’s probably thinking about that.”

And Alvaro didn’t even have any argument for _that_. “I’m scared I’ll be disturbing him,” he said.

Isco gave an exaggerated sigh. “Morata,” he said. “You gotta be desperate. If you really want what you want, you gotta be desperate. And besides, you and Paulo have been bothering each other on the phone for like, almost a decade. It’s not going to change. It’s not going to chase him away. In fact, what you’re doing _right now,_ being all draggy and talking fucking nonsense, it’s going to drive him away even more. Okay?”

“Maybe I’ll call him when we’re back in the same timezone,” Alvaro suggested.

Isco sighed again, like he really didn’t know what to do with Alvaro any longer. “Whatever you want,” he gave Alvaro’s back a few pats. “I know I said I wouldn’t tell you what to do with your life. But I just can’t sit and watch you two be fucking dumb, okay?”

“But just,” Alvaro started again. “There’s one more thing.”

Isco gave a super dramatic eye-roll. “What, there’s more?”

“What if Paulo…what if this ruins his life?” Alvaro asked. “What if he spends so much time on this relationship, on making it work, that he loses track of his football? It’s his dream, Isco. It’s his dream. I can’t take that away from him. He keeps telling me that football comes first. What if – what if it really does, and this relationship is just going to get in the way?”

Isco flopped over backwards on the bed, making a loud thump as his head hit the pillow. “Okay,” he said calmly. “Alvaro, I’m going to start dishing shit out at you, and you’re going to open your fucking mouth and eat it all.”

“What the fuck,” Alvaro said. “You’ve been hanging out with Franco too much.”

Isco ignored him. “First thing. Football has always come first for the both of you. You have always been able to make this work despite all your shitty circumstances. Fuck, the Atlantic Ocean is waving its middle finger at you right now. And I’ve gotten to know Paulo much more over all this time, and I can say that he’s not someone who will just simply lose focus like that. He isn’t someone who will give up one thing for another when he knows perfectly well that both are equally important to him.

“Second thing. Have you ever thought that maybe he’s only saying football comes first so that he will feel better about you leaving? To remind himself that you’re leaving not because you want to, but because you _have_ to, and he can’t stop you because _football comes first_ , that was what you agreed on. And so that you’ll focus on your football and stop thinking about whether this is going to work out, because _it will._ Have you ever thought about that?”

Alvaro went silent for a really long time, and the room was completely quiet except for both their uncoordinated breathing. It made so much sense. It suddenly made so much sense.

“No,” Alvaro finally whispered.

“You need to say it,” Isco said softly. “Say it, say those words, _Paulo, I want this relationship to go on and I hope you do, too_ , and then he’ll say _yes, of course_ , and then that’s it. Okay? You have to say it. You can’t just leave it hanging in the air and expect each other to understand.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “Yeah. Hey. Thanks.”

Isco smiled. “Yeah.”

“When did you become so fucking wise?” Alvaro asked. Isco didn’t respond, just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. “Hey. Are you repressing some things? When did you become such a love guru?”

Isco put his hand in the air, middle finger raised high.

“Is it because of Franco?”

Isco stayed quiet for a while before heaving a sigh and getting up. “Get some sleep, Morata,” he said, his voice fading as he walked towards the door. “Just don’t come knocking at my door if you wake up at four in the morning.”

“Hey,” Alvaro called after him. Isco stopped right at the door before he closed it. “You two would be cute together,” Alvaro said.

Isco narrowed his eyes, but his lips turned into a smile. He shut the door softly behind him.

Alvaro grabbed his phone and texted Paulo, _Newsflash: Isco’s being super weird about Franco._

 _Yeah?_ Paulo texted back like, immediately. _You asked him?_

_No, I hinted at it, and he pretended not to notice._

_Is it a good weird or a bad weird?_

_I can’t tell. Seems a little bit bad._

_Shit._

_But I told him they’d be cute together and he smiled._

_That’s a good thing, yeah?_

_Yeah._

And then Paulo didn’t reply anymore, so Alvaro just sat there staring at the conversation window, watching as Paulo went offline. _Are you free right now?_ Alvaro typed. And then backspaced. And then typed again, and backspaced again.

He finally shut his phone and turned on the TV, turning up the volume so he wouldn’t fall asleep. Maybe Paulo was busy. Maybe Paulo had no time to talk on the phone. Alvaro desperately wanted to tell him, wanted to say those words that would mean that they were _definitely going to be okay_ , but. But despite everything Isco had said, Alvaro’s self-doubt was still present. Alvaro’s self-esteem had never been high enough for him to be so simply convinced by a single conversation.

He spent the rest of the evening staring at a hockey re-run on TV and trying not to shut his eyes.

\------

_It was bright. And a little warm, like the sun was shining down on Alvaro. The surface he was sleeping on rustled a little and smelled like damp wood and freshly-fallen leaves._

_Alvaro opened his eyes. He was lying in a tiny clearing in the middle of tall trees. Their canopies met above him, allowing only a little sunlight to filter through. Their leaves were whispering above him in a language he didn’t understand._

_It was suddenly really cold._

_Alvaro got to his feet._

_And saw Paulo some distance away, lying on the ground curled up in a fetal position like he was hurt._

_Alvaro ran towards him immediately. “Paulo,” he called. “Paulo. What happened? Can you hear me?”_

_Paulo rolled around and. And stared at Alvaro, but not exactly. Like he was staring right through Alvaro. Like he couldn’t see Alvaro at all._

_“Alvi?” he whispered._

_“I’m here,” Alvaro said. He was running but he didn’t seem to be moving. “I’m coming. Paulo. I’m here.”_

_Tears started streaming down Paulo’s face, and Alvaro just kept running and running and running, and –_

_– and he ran straight into something which made him fall backwards._

_Alvaro shook his head to clear it. There wasn’t anything in front of him. Nothing at all. He got up and tried again, but only ran straight into a flawlessly transparent piece of glass._

_“Shit,” Alvaro muttered to himself. He waved his hand in front of him and it hit the glass again. Alvaro braced himself and threw the hardest punch he could muster, but his fist only bounced off the glass without a sound._

_Alvaro tried. And tried again. He didn’t care if it’d make him bleed. He didn’t care how many times he had to hit it. Fuck, Alvaro would bleed every single one of his veins out if it meant he could get to Paulo._

_“Paulo, wait for me,” he sobbed. “Paulo. I’m coming for you, I swear, Paulo.”_

_But Alvaro tried and tried and tried and he just couldn’t. He just_ couldn’t. _He sunk to the ground in a crying heap as Paulo wrapped his arms around himself, slowly starting to shiver. He was still staring right through Alvaro, like Alvaro was there, but. But also not there._

_“I’m sorry,” Alvaro whispered. He placed his hand on the glass but it didn’t form any fingerprints. “Paulo. I love you. I’m sorry.”_

_Alvaro lay back down on the ground, facing Paulo, in an almost mirror-image position as Paulo was in – arms hugging himself for warmth, knees pressed against his chest, his eyes trying to chase but never seeming to meet Paulo’s gaze._

_And then suddenly – suddenly, Paulo seemed to see Alvaro._

_He seemed to see Alvaro, his beautiful emerald eyes focusing on Alvaro’s face._

_Alvaro couldn’t say a word. For some reason, he physically couldn’t say a word._

_But Paulo did._

_“Please don’t give up on me.”_

Alvaro woke up with a start and a loud gasp, sitting up so quickly in bed all the blood rushed out of his head and made him dizzy. He momentarily forgot where he was until he caught sight of the stationery pad on the bedside table that read the name of the hotel, followed by _Columbus, Ohio._

Alvaro desperately tried to catch his breath as it all came back to him. North America, Real Madrid had just got beaten by PSG in their first ICC match a week and a half into their tour. Jet lag was no longer a valid problem, but there Alvaro was, wide awake at – he glanced at the clock – 5.09 am. He felt so alone. So, so fucking alone. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been awoken by a nightmare and Paulo wasn’t by his side to calm him down.

Paulo.

He took his phone from the bedside table and dialled Paulo’s number without even thinking about it.

Paulo took the call about five or six rings in. The ten longest seconds of Alvaro’s life.

“Hey,” he said. “Alvi. Hi.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro’s voice trembled. It suddenly hit him that it was _fucking five am_ and he shouldn’t have called Paulo. “Shit, I’m sorry, it’s so late, I shouldn’t have called you, fuck, did I wake you?”

A pause from Paulo, then, “No, hey. You didn’t wake me. It’s dinnertime. I just got back to my room.”

“Shit,” Alvaro whispered again. Of course. Paulo was in _Australia._ “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong? Isn’t it like, the middle of the night? What time is it? Why are you awake?”

The sound of Paulo’s voice, of the utter _concern_ in it, made Alvaro burst into tears. He couldn’t believe that he had _ever_ thought Paulo wanted to end this. That he could ever think that they could just give up on this entire thing. They _couldn’t_. Not even if they wanted to. Which they _didn’t_.

“Alvaro,” Paulo said softly, when Alvaro didn’t answer him. “Hey. Tell me what’s wrong. Why are you crying?”

“I had a bad dream,” Alvaro sobbed.

“What was it about?”

“It was about you,” Alvaro tried to breathe properly but failed. “You were hurt and I tried to get to you, I tried so fucking hard, Pau, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t get to you and you were just. Just lying there, Paulo, and I was so fucking scared, it felt so real. It felt so real.”

“Okay, okay, shhh,” Paulo whispered. “It was a dream. I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not hurt, I’m perfectly fine, okay?”

“I was so scared. Paulo, I couldn’t get to you. _I couldn’t get to you._ ”

Paulo paused. “You’ll always be able to get to me, baby.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro’s breath hitched in his throat. “Paulo, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. What are you sorry about?”

“About…this,” Alvaro said. “About this entire mess. Paulo, we made a mistake. We left it hanging. We should never have left it hanging.”

Paulo went silent for a really, really long while.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked quietly, his voice trembling.

“No,” Alvaro said immediately. “No. No, Paulo, shit. No. I would _never¸_ okay, Paulo? I just. I wanted to say we should never have left it hanging because now we have no idea what we are, we kept asking each other if we were going to be fine yet never giving each other any solid answers. We kept worrying and worrying and we never came to a conclusion. So now I just. I just want to tell you, Pau, that I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want our relationship to end. I don’t want us to simply fade away into nothing once again. I’m willing to do this, no matter how far apart we are. No matter how many timezones set us apart. I don’t fucking care. I _know_ we can do this. Paulo, I love you. I love you so fucking much and it tears me apart to not know what you want us to be, because _I know_ , Paulo, I know what I want us to be and I want us to be together, I want us to be boyfriends, forever and ever for _eternity_.”

Paulo gave a loud sob and then a slapping noise like he’d just clapped his hand over his mouth. He started to cry, softly but loud enough for Alvaro to hear.

“Me, too,” Paulo whispered. “I want this to go on. I want this to work, because we will always be us. We will always be Paulo and Alvaro and nothing, _nothing_ can tear us apart, no matter how hopeless it seems. I’m sorry, Alvaro. I’m sorry I never gave you an answer. I wish with all my heart that this will not end. I just. Thought that you wouldn’t want it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You know. With your previous girlfriends. When they left to study or work overseas. You ended the relationship. You said that…that long-distance isn’t your thing.”

Alvaro closed his eyes. Of course. Of course it was this, and of course Isco was right, that little fucker.

“Paulo,” he whispered. “Remember when I broke up with my first girlfriend Sofia, and you asked me why I did it, and I said I liked her too much to be far away from her?”

“Yeah?”

“I was wrong. I didn’t like her enough to try.”

Paulo gave this. This really happy-sounding combination of a gasp and a sob. “And you like me enough?” he asked.

“I like you way, way, _way_ more than enough, Pau.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro smiled. He felt his chest settle. “My favourite person.”

“The first thought I had when your agent called and you told me you might need to go back to Madrid,” Paulo said. “Was that you were going to break up with me. It was that…that long-distance had never worked for you and that we weren’t going to work, either, because you wouldn’t want it, and. And Alvaro. I didn’t want to hold you back. I didn’t want to force you to be with me, I didn’t want you to feel trapped in this relationship that you didn’t even want to continue.”

“I didn’t want to hold you back, either,” Alvaro confessed. “You know, ‘cause…’cause I still think that eventually, I’ll be the one to ruin your life. And I always think that maybe one day, finally, you’ll realise it and you’ll not want me, and I thought maybe that day already came when it was confirmed I had to come back to Madrid. I don’t want to ruin your life, Paulo. I don’t want to.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said softly, his voice trembling like he was about to cry again. “No. No. You’re not going to ruin my life, okay? Look at everything we’ve been through together. Just. Just sit back and think about it. Nothing can ruin us. _Nothing_. And I’ve told you a million times, Alvaro, I don’t care. Whatever comes at us, whatever comes at me, I don’t care.”

“I thought you didn’t want me,” Alvaro whispered. “Because football came first to you, and. I thought I wouldn’t have a place. That you should just…go ahead and focus on your football.”

“No, Alvi,” Paulo sighed. “I only kept saying that because I wanted you to know that I would always be here, that you had to go back to play your football and you _should_ , and I would always be waiting, no matter what you think about our relationship. Because I love you, Alvaro Morata, I fucking love you and I don’t know how to stop.”

Alvaro couldn’t help but give a little laugh. “Fucking Isco,” he muttered.

“Isco?”

“He was right. I talked to him and he fucking hit the nail right on the fucking head.”

“About which part?”

“About you thinking that I would abandon a long-distance relationship. And about you saying football comes first because you wanted me to know that we would always be okay and that I had to just concentrate on my football and not worry about it.”

Paulo laughed, too. “What a love guru.”

“That’s exactly what I said to him. Asked him if it’s because of Franco.”

“What did he say?”

“Didn’t say anything. Gave me the middle finger.”

“Poor baby,” Paulo cooed.

It all went peacefully silent for a little while, the both of them just sitting on either end, listening to each other breathe. Alvaro could never explain it, but it just felt so. So calming to listen to Paulo breathe.

“Paulo,” Alvaro finally whispered after like, ten minutes. “You still there?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I would never give up on us.”

“Me neither,” Paulo said softly. “I love you, Alvi.”

“Paulo. We’re dumb, aren’t we?”

Paulo laughed again, this time really loudly. “Yeah, always been. I can’t believe we almost ended just because of something as stupid as this.”

“We’re kinda lucky we have Franco and Isco.”

“Yeah, even though they’re assholes.”

“Do you have anything else to do today?” Alvaro asked.

“We’re flying to Hong Kong tonight. In a couple of hours.”

“Yeah? Sounds nice,” Alvaro said. “Single room?”

“Yeah. I miss rooming with you.”

“Me too.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said, suddenly sounding really excited like he usually did when he suddenly got one of his ‘brilliant’ ideas. “Hey, you saw my Instagram post about that kangaroo toy I got as a souvenir, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro laughed. Paulo’d asked his followers to think of a name for it. “Why?”

“I thought of a name for it.”

“What is it?”

“ _Alvaroo,_ ” Paulo said excitedly. He only managed to hold it in for half a second before he exploded into a fit of loud giggles.

Alvaro followed soon after, not being able to help himself. He clutched his stomach and curled over on his side, choking out laughter while trying his best not to wake anyone else up. “Fuck, Paulo, what the fuck!”

“It’s a good name. Say it’s a good name.”

“Fine, it’s a good name.”

“I literally just thought of it. Like, it’s sitting on my suitcase and I looked at it and I thought of it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alvaro said, just to make Paulo happy. “You’re a smarty.”

“Well, one of us has gotta be smart.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Paulo started laughing again and, man. It was Alvaro’s favourite sound in the entire universe.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” Paulo said once his laughter had subsided.

“I’m trying,” Alvaro said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d already closed his eyes and his phone was balanced on his ear because his arm had gotten tired while holding it. “I miss you. This bed is huge.”

“Imagine I’m there with you,” was Paulo’s tender suggestion. “Close your eyes. I’m right behind you, and my arms are around you and my nose is pressed on the back of your neck because it smells good.”

“Yeah? It does?”

“Mmhmm. And one of my legs is shoved between yours because my feet are cold and yours are warm.”

And Paulo continued, on and on and on, endlessly whispering to Alvaro the exact positions they were in and the exact words Paulo was saying to Alvaro. It was soothing. It sent Alvaro into this state of calm he was familiar with, the state of calm that was only possible if Paulo was around. It was like. Like phone sex, but a million times softer.

Alvaro was about to drift off to sleep when he suddenly remembered.

“Pau,” he whispered. “Hey. I gotta ask you something.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered back, like if he spoke too loudly he’d jostle Alvaro from his peaceful state.

“My presentation as a Real Madrid player is on the fifteenth,” Alvaro said. “August. Do you…do you wanna come?”

“Of course,” Paulo said, after the briefest of thoughts. “I think it’s in between matches. I’ll have to check. But I’ll be there as long as I can just get one day off, okay? Promise.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered.

“Hey, no, of course,” Paulo said, and Alvaro could hear the big smile in his voice. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I don’t go?”

“A boyfriend who plays for Juve and doesn’t want to be seen anywhere near Real Madrid.”

Paulo laughed. “Nah, it’s not like that.”

“Who do you prefer, me or Messi?”

“You. But don’t tell Leo that.”

“I’m totally gonna.”

There was suddenly a loud noise from Paulo’s end, like someone was rapping on something with their hand. Then the rustle of fabric as Paulo got up and seemed to open a door. Followed by soft murmurs Alvaro couldn’t make out. Then the door shutting.

“Alvi, I gotta go,” Paulo said reluctantly. “We’re heading to the airport.”

“Yeah, go,” Alvaro said. “Safe flight, Pau.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said softly. “I love you.”

But even then Paulo didn’t hang up, just sat there quietly on the other end, like he was as addicted to listening to Alvaro breathe as Alvaro was to listening to him.

After about five minutes, Paulo said, “So…” at the same time Alvaro said, “Pau, wait.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said.

“We okay?”

Paulo gave a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Always.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Paulo said. “I’m gonna hang up now, Alvi.”

“Mmhmm. Text me when you’ve landed, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Paulo hung up only after ten whole seconds of silence.

Alvaro glanced at the clock. He’d been talking to Paulo for more than an hour.

Alvaro closed his eyes and fell back asleep without any problem.

\------

Alvaro woke up four hours later feeling strangely rested.

He picked up his phone, briefly noticing a notification from Instagram before his fingerprint unlocked it. But the first thing he did was open the clock application and add the time for Hong Kong and Melbourne.

9.13pm in Hong Kong. 11.13pm in Melbourne.

Paulo was probably just boarding the plane. Taking photos with his teammates, probably. Having fun. Alvaro smiled at the thought of Paulo’s innocent laughter floating through the plane.

Alvaro opened Instagram and tapped his way to the notification: _paulodybala tagged you in a photo._

It was a photo of Paulo’s back as he dragged his luggage down the wide airport lobby. He was wearing one of Alvaro’s Juventus jerseys, the ‘Morata 9’ in plain, stark view in the middle of the photograph. The little kangaroo toy sat on top of his suitcase. The geotag read _‘Melbourne Airport.’_

 _Bringing your love with me wherever I go / thanks everyone, I’ve decided to name the kangaroo ‘Alvaroo’,_ was the caption, followed by a cheeky face emoji and a red heart.

When Alvaro tapped the photo, he saw Paulo had tagged him on the kangaroo toy.

Alvaro double-tapped the photo. _See you very soon, love,_ he commented, followed by a blue heart because it was Paulo’s favourite colour, and a green heart because it was the colour of Paulo’s eyes.

He couldn’t help but smile as he continued examining the photograph. He bet Paulo had specially dug out the shirt from his luggage just to take the photo, what a weirdo. He briefly wondered who had helped take it. Maybe it was Miralem. The thought of that made Alvaro happy; the thought that even Paulo’s new teammates accepted who he was.

Holding on to that thought, Alvaro clicked open the comments. He sifted through them, his eye catching only the good ones.

_Goals, tbh._

_If only I had a boyfriend who would do this._

_You two are so sweet it’s borderline disgusting._

_Wish you could play together again :(_

_Alvaroo is the best thing I’ve ever heard._

_#relationshipgoals_

Alvaro smiled. They all sounded like younger people, like he and Paulo had struck a chord with the younger generation. It warmed Alvaro’s heart to know that so many people were able to relate to them and support them. It suddenly made all the others, all the hurtful, mean people, irrelevant.

Alvaro slid under the covers again, just. Just feeling so fond he was curling up on himself. He loved Paulo so much. Even the thought of him, although he was across the world and possibly flying in the air right then, never failed to make Alvaro so fucking happy.

 _I love you so much,_ he texted Paulo, so it would be the first thing he saw when he landed. _I can’t wait to see you._

And then he got out of bed, the knowledge that everything was okay and that _everything was going to be okay_ spurring him on not only for the rest of the day but for the rest of the time he had to spend alone before seeing Paulo again.


	46. We Are Infinite As The Universe We Hold Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Sorry for the late update, it was soooo busy preparing for the lunar new year. But this is essentially the final chapter of this fic, the next one will be the epilogue. And I've added another chapter 48 because it turns out the trivia I promised you guys has too many words to fit into the end notes :p so I'm putting it as another chapter. Also, I've updated the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/3VhjeM5HLitEyiMD7xCs1I) again, for the final time!
> 
> At this point I'd just like to say thank you again! I know I've already said this many times and I'll probably never stop saying it, but I really really appreciate everything that you all have done for me, all the kudos and comments, all the kind and encouraging words, you guys are so great honestly and I would never have made it here without every single one of you. Thank you so much for enduring all of my lame extensions (this story is 1.5 times the length I'd originally intended it to be, which is 32 chapters lol) and my long chapters. Thank you for not giving up halfway and following me to the very end. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. This is truly the most fun I've had in a long time - and everything, together with the trivia and one page of planning, is 506 pages on Microsoft Word. So you can imagine how much of a pain in the ass it is to open and save :p 
> 
> But anyway, thank you all so so so so so much. I would love to continue hearing from you, you can always leave a comment, I'm always checking (because I'm a narcissist like Alvaro HAHA). And of course, I hope you'll follow the new Isco/Franco fic which I will be posting together with the epilogue this week :) 
> 
> Thank you so much and enjoy!
> 
> Title is from Sun by Sleeping At Last.

Less than a week after Juventus returned to Turin, Paul left for Manchester United.

Paulo didn’t get to see him. Didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t get to say thank you for your support right from the very start.

But he finally met Gonzalo and quickly hit it off with him, so that sort of took away a little of the pain.

Alvaro skirted around the subject cautiously, like he wasn’t sure how much Paulo wanted to talk about Paul. Paulo half expected him to just recklessly go ‘I told you so,’ but Alvaro didn’t. Alvaro was maturing. Paulo was so fucking proud.

“Maybe you could text him,” Alvaro said when they were on the phone before Paulo was flying to London for another friendly. Out of the blue, with no preamble of any sort. “You know, Paul,” he said, his voice lowering on Paul’s name like he didn’t know if it would somehow trigger Paulo to hear it.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. He was sort of already just. Zen with it. “Hey, you know they asked me if I want to take Paul’s number?”

“The number 10?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna?”

“I don’t know yet. What do you think?”

Alvaro went quiet for a few moments, then, “It’s up to you.”

“Yeah? But I kinda like 21.”

“Hey, um,” Alvaro stammered. “Could I say something?”

“Of course, Alvi.”

“Could you just. Just wait?” Alvaro asked timidly. “Like, think about this number change and just wait and don’t make a decision yet.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it, why?”

“You’ll see. You’ll know when it happens.”

Paulo narrowed his eyes although Alvaro couldn’t see him. “What’s gonna happen?” he asked.

“Told you, you’ll know when it happens.”

“You’ve got something planned, haven’t you,” Paulo said. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“I’m not gonna say anything,” Alvaro giggled.

“What if I kiss you until you do?”

“You can’t.”

“But I am. I’m kissing you until you open your fucking mouth and tell me what’s up.”

“Mmhmm? And what if I don’t?”

And then it quickly escalated into another session of phone sex that Paulo and Alvaro were so increasingly having. It was actually a pretty good routine. It seemed to get rid of Alvaro’s need for constant physical affection. Paulo didn’t have the same intense need, but. But he was getting orgasms out of it, so why not?

Anyway, Paulo didn’t manage to get anything out of Alvaro, so he waited. He didn’t really think much about it, just waited, like Alvaro said, for the surprise to hit him.

\------

When Isco asked for a copy of his key, Alvaro didn’t really think much about it. Sure, it was slightly suspicious, but Alvaro thought maybe there were just some of his things at Isco’s apartment that Isco wanted to drop off.

He only realised why Isco had asked for it when he woke up on the morning of his presentation to something warm pressing against him on the other side of his bed.

Alvaro briefly thought _fuck, why the fuck is Isco in my bed,_ before he opened his eyes.

And saw Paulo – Paulo, in all his glory, lying next to him, legs curled up in front of him so one thigh was shoved in between Alvaro’s.

Alvaro _knew_ there had to be a reason why he was sleeping so soundly.

Alvaro’s first reaction was to reach over and place his palm on Paulo’s cheek to check if he was real or if he was just a hallucination. He felt the bump in Paulo’s cheek as he smiled, the curvature that fit perfectly into the palm of Alvaro’s hand.

“Hello,” Paulo whispered.

“Hi,” Alvaro whispered, before he suddenly broke down in tears of relief. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” Paulo continued whispering, like there was this little bubble of peace he didn’t want to burst. He wiped Alvaro’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I thought you were going straight to the Bernabeu.”

“I couldn’t wait to see you.”

Alvaro closed the gap between their faces and pressed his lips gently on Paulo’s. He felt a faint glow start radiating throughout his entire body, emitting from his chest, where his heart was currently pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. The glow of Paulo’s presence.

Alvaro pulled Paulo into a tight hug, their bodies pressed together from head to toe. “I missed you so much,” Alvaro breathed into Paulo’s ear.

“I missed you, too,” Paulo said softly, his hands running soothing circles on Alvaro’s back. “Seems like it’s been forever.”

“When are you going back?”

“Tomorrow morning. So I have a night with you.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled.

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Anything you want, Alvi.”

Alvaro moved to kiss Paulo on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Alvi, I love you so, so much.”

“How’s everything?” Alvaro asked, holding Paulo at arm’s length and examining him as properly as he could from their positions. “Is everyone treating you well? Are you eating well? You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I haven’t lost any weight, Alvaro.”

“You sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

“Well, you haven’t grown taller either.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo shoved Alvaro aside. He picked up his phone and opened Instagram. “Hey, let’s take a photo. You know that new thing Instagram just made? The one that’s like Snapchat?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t used it yet.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anyone I wanna take photos of,” Alvaro said matter-of-factly. Because, well. It _was_ a matter of fact. “You weren’t here.”

A slow smile spread across Paulo’s face, the same time that a tiny blush appeared on his cheeks. “Cheesy fuck,” he said.

“C’mon, we can take one now.”

So Paulo took an aerial photo of the both of them, lying in bed, Alvaro gazing lovingly at Paulo as Paulo smiled at the camera. He posted it on his story with an emoji of the Spanish flag.

“You’re gross,” Paulo remarked, staring at the photograph, clicking on his story every time the time ran out so he could look at it again. “Look at your face. It’s so gross.”

“I’m in love with you,” Alvaro said. “That’s how someone looks like when they’re in love.”

“I don’t look like that,” Paulo said adamantly.

“Wanna bet?”

“Why do you wanna bet when you know you’re gonna lose?”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said, trying to tickle Paulo.

It soon escalated into another wrestling match that ended with Paulo on top of Alvaro, straddling him, trying to mess up Alvaro’s hair, which had already grown out since the Euros. He didn’t notice Alvaro grabbing his phone and taking a photo of them – just their top halves – and posting it to his own story with a blue heart.

“See?” Alvaro said, showing the photograph to Paulo to make him stop fiddling with Alvaro. “You look gross, too.”

Paulo tapped Alvaro’s little circle again to examine the photograph. “I look less gross than you,” he mused, a cheeky smirk on his face.

“You totally don’t.”

Paulo gave a little giggle. “Fine, fine. We both look gross.”

“I love you, Paulo.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo said. He took the phone from Alvaro and viewed the story again before resting his cheek on Alvaro’s chest. “I guess I’m in love with you, yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro pressed his face into Paulo’s hair, temporarily intoxicated by the familiar scent.

“You gotta go get ready?”

Alvaro sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around Paulo. “I just wanna lie with you forever.”

“We can do that tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now go get ready.”

“Come with me.”

So Paulo followed Alvaro everywhere and got ready with him. They showered together and put on their clothes together, and Alvaro said again that Paulo had lost weight but Paulo pointed out that _Alvaro_ had lost weight, too, so they both agreed that maybe it was just all the flying around and the jet lag. They stood in front of the mirror together, Alvaro in his fancy suit and Paulo in a dark grey buttoned shirt and black jeans.

“You look hot,” Alvaro said as Paulo adjusted his tie.

Paulo gave a shy laugh. “You look hotter.”

Alvaro gave Paulo’s arms a squeeze. “You’re so big now. When I met you, you were so tiny I could pick you up and throw you into Portugal.”

“Shut up,” Paulo smiled, giving Alvaro’s shoulder a light smack. “When I first met you. I don’t know. I felt so comfortable. I liked you a lot. I looked up to you. And, I don’t know. I just felt that we were so alike, we liked the same things and we hoped for the same things, and we saw the world the same way. And I hoped that one day I’d make it as big as you, I mean, I’ve always preferred Barcelona but. But you were playing for fucking _Real Madrid,_ I don’t know, it’s just so _huge_ and I hoped that one day I’d get to play for a club that was just as big.”

“And you are, yeah?” Alvaro gently ruffled Paulo’s unstyled hair. Alvaro liked it best when it was unstyled. “You’re playing for a huge club now.”

“Yeah,” Paulo turned his smile to the ground, giving Alvaro’s lapels a final pat-down. “Alvi, we made it big.”

“So fucking big.”

“When you met me,” Paulo swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat. “When you met me, did you ever think I’d make it this far?”

“Of course,” Alvaro said earnestly. He’d never, _ever_ thought any other way. “I mean, I know you didn’t play for the Argentine youth team. I know you were like, virtually unknown because of that. But you were so good, Paulo, the first time I watched you play, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You still can’t,” Paulo pointed out, and well. That wasn’t false.

“That’s because you’re so fucking beautiful,” Alvaro said, wrapping his arms around Paulo and pulling him in for a hug. “You’re so beautiful.”

Paulo gave a soft chuckle, tucking his head under Alvaro’s chin. “Shut the fuck up.”

“C’mon now, don’t cry or you’ll ruin your make up,” Alvaro smiled.

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo repeated. He pulled away from the hug and moved to kiss Alvaro instead, his tender, gentle lips prying Alvaro’s apart, his tongue working its way into Alvaro’s mouth. His hands slid under Alvaro’s suit jacket, forming two warm pools on Alvaro’s lower back through his dress shirt. And the feeling – just the feeling of Paulo, the bumps and muscles and bones that Alvaro was more than familiar with, quenched all of Alvaro’s thirst, all the accumulated _want_ and _craving_ suddenly disintegrating into thin air. Paulo was here. _Paulo was here_ and no matter how short the visit was, nothing else would ever matter more.

“I’m going to have a boner at my presentation,” Alvaro murmured into Paulo’s mouth.

“Serves you right.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sighed, pulling away and holding Paulo by the shoulders. “I just. I just can’t. I can’t put all of this into words. These past seven years, meeting you, hoping to play with you, _actually getting to play with you_ …Paulo. It’s just. It’s a dream come true. You know, you don’t really realise it until it happens, you don’t realise how big it all is. But now, looking back on it…I don’t even know. I don’t know how to put it all into words.”

“You don’t have to,” Paulo whispered. He tucked a stray bunch of Alvaro’s hair into the gelled pile sitting neatly on his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“All this time,” Paulo said softly. “All this time, this seven years. It just tells us that no matter what, we’ll always make it out. Me and you. Paulo and Alvaro. As long as we’re together, we’ll always make it out unscathed.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Yeah. We definitely will.”

“And then we can get that big dog you’re always going on about.”

“No, we get married first. It comes as a set. Get married and get a big dog.”

“Anything at all, Alvi. Anything you want.”

“I want you.”

Paulo smiled and Alvaro caught a little glimpse of it before Paulo dove into another hug. He held on to Alvaro as Alvaro started walking out of the room, only letting go when they got stuck at the door. Alvaro took his hand as they walked to the front door.

“So, you prefer Barca?” Alvaro asked, even though he had always known.

“Yeah. They’ve always had more Argentines.”

Alvaro pried his hand out of Paulo’s. “Sorry, man, this is a hard no. I gotta break up with you. Bye, Paulo. Go back to Turin. Regresa al Turin.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo shoved him in the shoulder, laughing loudly. “You know I’d never act on it.”

Alvaro chuckled and took Paulo’s hand, holding it tight until they got to the car. And even then he only let go of it briefly as they both climbed in, Paulo driving and Alvaro in the passenger seat. He reached over and held on to one of Paulo’s hands.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Alvaro said.

Paulo smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Alvi.”

Alvaro leaned over and gently pecked Paulo’s cheek.

Paulo didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the journey and Alvaro felt this strange sense of peace. This strange sense of contentment that Paulo was right beside him, and no matter how brief a time they had with each other, it would never fail to make Alvaro feel whole. Alvaro had spent his entire life chasing this feeling but just never getting it right. This feeling of being so _at home_ with someone, every second of every day, no matter how far or near they were. Alvaro finally understood why it had taken him so long.

Because no matter how clichéd it sounded, home wasn’t a place. Home wasn’t even a feeling.

Home was Paulo.

\------

Paulo received a huge kiss from Alvaro right in front of all the cameras at the Bernabeu before he left to get ready for his presentation.

Paulo turned away from the cameras, wanting to head to the presentation room but suddenly so dizzy and at a loss to which direction he was supposed to walk in.

“Paulo, welcome to the Bernabeu, how are you today?” he heard one of the reporters ask before he could escape.

Paulo just. Just turned to him, and said, “Proud.”

He received a collective smile from everyone there. Paulo flashed a big smile back, just, you know, for the cameras. This high-profile reporting of their relationship was something Paulo knew was going to happen from day one, from their coming out press conference. Paulo just had to deal with it. He thought maybe he was doing a wonderful job. Alvaro sure thought so, at least.

Besides, the warm welcome they got from the media meant that they were welcome in Madrid, too. Paulo was overjoyed at that fact. Madrid loved them just like Turin did. Paulo truly had two homes away from home.

The media helped him out, for once, by pointing him in the right direction. Paulo scurried down the hall until he saw Alvaro’s family ambling their way down it, on their way inside, too.

Marta was the first to see him, giving a loud squeal when she did. She wrapped her arms around Paulo and gave a tight squeeze. “Hey, lil brother.”

“Hey,” Paulo smiled.

Alvaro’s parents gave him warm smiles and said they were glad he was back in Madrid, and. And that was enough for Paulo. Just those six simple words, ‘ _we’re glad you’re back in Madrid,’_ was more than enough for Paulo.

They all filtered inside the presentation room, and Paulo stuck to Marta so they’d end up sitting together because, well. Paulo was still a little afraid of Alvaro’s dad. But he ended up wedged in between Marta and her dad, so he decided to spend most of the waiting time just staring ahead.

He only succeeded for like, five minutes, before Alvaro’s dad asked, “Have you been to Alvaro’s new apartment?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “It’s a nice place.”

“I heard you helped him pick it out.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said again, smiling.

“You have good taste.”

“Well, it was Alvaro who chose it in the end, so…”

“Nonsense. We all know Alvaro’s taste is nowhere near decent,” Alvaro’s dad said, before realising. “I mean, not that you aren’t good, just –“

Paulo burst into laughter. “His taste for other things,” he finished for Alvaro’s dad.

“Yes,” Alvaro’s dad said, clearing his throat. “Paulo, I just want to say. I’m very proud of the both of you. Of how far you’ve come. You pressed on with it, you pulled through right to the very end, and look where it’s got you. I’m very happy that…that you two know what you really want and you’ve worked so hard for it.”

“Thank you,” Paulo smiled, turning to Alvaro’s dad but only managing to make one second of eye contact before he had to turn away again.

“And. And you’re welcome in our home anytime you want, yeah?”

Paulo’s heart skipped a beat. This was like. It was like final, verbal confirmation from Alvaro’s dad that he was _accepting_ Alvaro and Paulo. Paulo understood that Alvaro’s dad had been in a constant learning journey when it came to Alvaro and Paulo. He knew it was time that he had to give to Alvaro’s dad. But now, to hear this, to know that. That Alvaro’s dad had reached this advanced stage in his journey where he was comfortable enough with the idea to support it – to welcome Paulo, to accept Paulo and Alvaro as a couple, to accept that Alvaro wasn’t exactly the son he’d planned to have, to embrace who Alvaro was and not block out everything that was preventing Alvaro from being the ‘ideal son,’ _and_ most importantly to be comfortable enough with all of this that he was willing to _say it out loud_ – it finally put a full stop to everything. Their story was complete. Alvaro and Paulo’s story was complete.

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered, afraid if he spoke any louder he would burst into tears. “This…it all means a lot to me, really. Thank you.”

Alvaro’s dad smiled. He draped an arm over Paulo’s shoulders and pulled him close in a half-hug. “I know you see me as a dad. I’ve told you before, Paulo. You’re my son, too.”

Paulo nodded silently.

“I hope that Alvaro being here, in Madrid…it hasn’t affected you two, yeah?”

“Not at all,” Paulo said.

“Good, because, you know. I’d rather he be with you than with anyone else in the world. You two are going to do such great things together.”

Paulo smiled. His hands were shaking, so he stuffed them between his knees. Alvaro’s dad seemed to get it, so he let go of Paulo as they watched the happenings on the stage. Watched as Alvaro came outside and took a seat in the front row, but not before turning and flashing a dazzling smile in the direction of his family and Paulo. But more of like, directly at Paulo. It melted all of Paulo’s bones.

Marta nudged Paulo in the side. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re jealous,” Paulo shot back. Marta was like a sister to him. His _only sister._ Just like how Paulo had been Alvaro’s only brother.

Paulo smiled to himself. Alvaro just couldn’t stop giving.

The room fell into a hushed silence as the lights dimmed and an announcement came on about the tribute video of Alvaro they were going to play. Paulo clasped his hands together, suddenly nervous for _no reason at all_. It just felt like he was nervous for the sake of being nervous, because his body was telling him this was a huge day for Alvaro and for whatever reason it was something to be nervous about.

The video was of Alvaro’s goals in a Real Madrid or Spain shirt, all his screamers and point-blanks, all his cup wins and ecstatic celebrations. And his mushroom head, _God,_ his mushroom head that Paulo was so fucking _fond_ of.

Paulo couldn’t believe how far they’d both come. How much they’d both grown, albeit in different ways. As Paulo watched all those goals he couldn’t help but be overcome by a huge wave of pride. He was there for all of it. He was there for _all of it,_ all of Alvaro’s growing years, all of his goals, the entirety of Alvaro’s transition from youth to senior and into the star he was today. And yet, even though they’d both made mistakes, nothing between them had ever changed one tiny bit.

Alvaro was the strongest force, the sturdiest pillar of strength in Paulo’s life. And no matter what happened in the future, no matter what happened in the world or in their lives, Paulo never, ever wanted that to stop.

Paulo’s eyes flitted between the main screen and the smaller screen next to it that showed Alvaro as he watched the video. Well, they mostly lingered on the small screen. Alvaro looked pretty expressionless on the surface, but from his eyes Paulo saw a mixture of nervousness and nostalgia. And pride.

The lights came back on as Perez stepped on stage to give a short speech to welcome Alvaro back. Soon after, Alvaro was invited on stage.

Paulo wasn’t actually aware that Alvaro had to give a legitimate speech. But he suddenly realised why Alvaro had been so nervous – why _Paulo_ himself had been so nervous. Maybe it was his fucking tattletale subconscious working its magic. But anyway, Alvaro looked anxious as he cleared his throat and prepared to speak, so Paulo chased his gaze and gave an encouraging smile when he caught it.

“Hello, everyone,” Alvaro started, his gaze alternating between Paulo’s face and the script on the podium in front of him. “Thank you for all your support and for being here today. I am very glad to be back. My two years in Juventus were undoubtedly the greatest growing years for me, but now I am back in Madrid and right now this is where I want to be, back home. I’m very proud and honoured to get the chance to play in a Real Madrid shirt once again and I hope to return all of your faith.”

And then Alvaro stopped looking at his script and just focused on Paulo’s face, and from where Paulo was sitting he could see how dilated Alvaro’s pupils were, how eager his gaze was. Paulo’s eyes were trapped in it. He couldn’t look away.

“I’m taking the number 21 this time – not because my chosen number wasn’t available and not because I wore the number 21 a few seasons back. I chose the number 21 because of what it means to me. Paulo – my boyfriend, Paulo – wears this same number. I met Paulo on the 21st day of the month of June. And when we finally got the chance to play together in Juventus after all our years of wishing, Paulo was 21 years old. So now, I will wear this white shirt with pride for the badge on the front, and I know I will take every step forward with Paulo right behind me. On that note, I would like to thank all of you for all your support and acceptance, thank you to my family and friends, thank you to all of you who are here today. I am very touched that you have put so much faith and trust in me and that you have tried to understand me and not give up on me. Thank you for making Madrid a home I can come back to. And lastly, thank you, Paulo. Thank you for taking the time to come here to Madrid, to a stadium that isn’t your home. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I love you. Thank you, everyone, I cannot express in words all my gratitude for everything that you have done for me. I hope I will continue to make you proud. Hala Madrid!”

Everyone started clapping loudly, and Alvaro looked so overwhelmed and he was still staring at Paulo, and Alvaro was _crying_ and he was desperately trying to wipe his tears and Paulo was suddenly equally overwhelmed because Alvaro in the past, Alvaro before he accepted himself, would _never_ have cried in public. He would have held it in; no matter how hard it was, Alvaro would have held it in. And Paulo just. He knew it was a weird reason to be proud, but _he was._

When they gave Alvaro the shirt with the number 21 on the back it suddenly hit Paulo – _this was the surprise._ This was why Alvaro didn’t want him to change his number.

Marta nudged Paulo in the ribs as he watched Alvaro pose for photographs. “You’re crying,” she pointed out.

“Am not,” Paulo retorted, although, well. _He was._

“Pfft,” she said, and stood up as they were called to the stage for group photos.

Paulo hurriedly wiped his tears and followed Alvaro’s family up the stage. They made a path for Paulo so he could stand next to Alvaro, and of course Paulo didn’t deny them. He went all the way up to Alvaro and stood next to him, and jabbed his middle finger into the small of Alvaro’s back.

“D’you know which finger I’m pointing at you right now?” he asked.

Alvaro burst into gentle laughter as he gave Paulo one of the sleeves of his jersey to hold on to. “Yes, I do.”

“I’m not going to change my number,” Paulo informed him.

“I hoped you wouldn’t,” Alvaro smiled. “Told you you’d know it when it happened.”

Paulo shielded his mouth from the cameras with his free hand as he whispered, “Fuck you.”

And then they had to chill and pose for the photos, and shit, Paulo was fucking holding a Real Madrid shirt with his number on the back and he bet there would be tons of photoshopped photos with the ‘Morata’ changed to ‘Dybala’ accompanying the transfer rumours and just the thought of it made Paulo want to laugh.

“Hey,” Paulo said when they were done and heading out so Alvaro could change into a full kit for pitch-side photos. “What if I come to Real Madrid, what number do I take then?”

Alvaro’s eyes widened excitedly, before narrowing again when he realised Paulo was teasing him _again._ “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Did you take 21 so you could be next to Isco in the locker room? Do you have a crush on him?”

Alvaro’s eyes narrowed further. “Did you come all the way over here to make fun of me?”

“No, I came all the way over here because I love you.”

Alvaro smiled a warm smile and Paulo’s bones melted again. He leaned over and pressed his lips gently on Paulo’s. “I love you, too. I’m so fucking happy you’re here.”

“I’m so fucking happy I’m here,” Paulo said. “Now go get changed.”

“Will you come help me?”

“Can I?”

Alvaro burst into laughter at how eager Paulo must’ve looked. “Uh, nah, I think you’d better not.”

And then he left with a little giggle, and Paulo followed Alvaro’s family out to the side of the pitch, where they were brought on a very short tour of the sidelines and benches.

Paulo took out his phone to send a quick email to Allegri about the shirt number – only to see an email from Allegri already waiting for him in his inbox.

 _Paulo,_  
_I know, you’ll keep the 21._  
 _Enjoy your time in Madrid and I’ll see you in training._

_Boss_

Paulo typed a quick thank you email and looked up to see a reporter approaching him. The same one who had been interviewing Marta earlier on.

“Paulo, hello,” she said cheerfully. “Welcome to the Bernabeu.”

“Thank you,” Paulo managed to say, though he was caught completely off guard.

“How does it feel being here, seeing Alvaro here?”

“I know he’s really happy to be home, after all he grew up playing for Real Madrid. I’m very proud that he’s made it back here. As long as he’s happy, I’m happy, doesn’t matter where he plays.”

“You’ve known Alvaro since you were teens, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, since I was fifteen. Alvaro got promoted to Castilla at the end of that season.”

“Would you ever consider playing in Spain?”

“Well…” Paulo said sheepishly. He couldn’t really say anything, so he just flashed his most charming grin at her.

She laughed. “I know, I know, no comment.”

Paulo decided it was probably better he didn’t mention Barcelona, so. “I’m sure Alvaro will do great things here and I’d like to thank everyone again, on behalf of Alvaro, for all your support, I’m sure he’ll be very glad to see how many people turned up.”

“We’re all very happy to see him back, too,” she smiled. “Oh, here he comes. Thanks, Paulo. If you don’t already know this yet – we’re all rooting for the both of you!”

It touched Paulo, really, that no one hesitated to remind him that they were very welcome in this city. Over and over again, even. That nothing had changed in their transition from Turin to Madrid. They had burst into the scene and made it theirs. They’d lit up the world. And Paulo was so, so honoured that he was able to do it with Alvaro by his side.

He stood aside with Alvaro’s family as Alvaro entered the pitch to a boisterous crowd. He knew it’d always been Alvaro’s dream, to walk out on the Bernabeu grass with a crowd cheering him on, ever since he was a teen. He didn’t exactly get that when he was promoted to the senior team, and needless to say when he scored against Real Madrid while playing for Juve. This was the first time he really, truly, got all the attention on him, and knew that _all_ the applause was for _him._

Alvaro paused for a second to marvel at the sheer number of fans who’d turned up – they were occupying every single one of the seats that had been allocated for this event. They were holding banners. Spain flags. Old Morata jerseys.

Cameramen swarmed around Alvaro as he began juggling the ball, before being directed to stand in different poses. Paulo stood where he was as Alvaro’s family went over to him to take photos, because after all, it was family time. They all had identical delighted looks on their faces and it was so adorable.

Alvaro eventually caught him standing alone and waved him over, and when Paulo gestured for them to continue, Alvaro just. Just marched over and grabbed Paulo’s hand and dragged him over to where everybody was, causing them to burst into fond laughter.

“Can I have one alone with Paulo, please,” Alvaro said impatiently when Marta continued hovering around them.

“Pfft,” she said, rolling her eyes and stepping aside.

Alvaro and Paulo instinctively wrapped their arms around each other, Alvaro’s draped across Paulo’s shoulders and Paulo’s curled around Alvaro’s waist. They smiled brilliantly at the camera. Paulo was temporarily transported back to their last day of the 2009 training camp and the photo they’d taken then, the photo he’d included in Alvaro’s scrapbook.

And like Alvaro had read his mind, he turned to Paulo and said, “For the scrapbook. 15th August 2016.”

Paulo tiptoed a little to kiss him and the crowd went _fucking wild._

“Mmm, now more Instagram photos,” Alvaro murmured.

Paulo laughed. Sure, Alvaro was childish and a bit of a narcissist but honestly, who wasn’t? Besides, the way Alvaro was meant that he never ever failed to turn any situation into a good one and Paulo just. Paulo had always needed someone like him.

He was dragged along by Alvaro again as Alvaro got a bag of balls and emptied them on the ground, picking them up one by one and throwing or kicking them to the crowd. He passed some to Paulo, so Paulo joined in.

“Hey,” Paulo said as Alvaro passed him the last ball. He placed his hand on top of Alvaro’s as he took the ball. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro said, smiling as Paulo launched the ball into the crowd.

They re-entered the tunnel together, hand in hand, behind Alvaro’s family. Paulo stuck by Alvaro for the rest of the time. He went with Alvaro to get changed, clung on to Alvaro’s arm when he was brought on a short tour around the Bernabeu to get re-acquainted, and let Alvaro wrap him in a hug as they headed back down the hallway to grab Alvaro’s things from the locker room so Alvaro could head to training.

They met Isco outside the locker room, which was a surprise, actually, since he was supposed to be on his way to training as well.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Alvaro asked.

“Rude,” Isco said. “I came to see my favourite couple.”

“Isn’t that you and Franco?” Alvaro said.

Isco briefly looked around to confirm there weren’t any lurking cameras before he flashed his middle finger at Alvaro. Paulo burst into loud laughter because, well. If they _were_ a couple, they’d be Paulo’s second favourite. But Isco didn’t seem to like talking about it, judging from – well, judging from everything Alvaro had told Paulo. So Paulo just remained silent.

They stood at the door waiting for Alvaro to change. Isco nudged Paulo with his shoulder. “Hey. He’s really happy that you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “I told him a billion times I’d be here.”

“Yeah, but you know him,” Isco shrugged. “He won’t believe it until he sees you.”

“Thanks for, you know. Being here for him. When I can’t be.”

“I kinda don’t have a choice,” Isco laughed.

“Neither do I,” Paulo whispered conspiratorially, and Isco burst into laughter so fucking loud Alvaro turned around to see what was going on.

“I’m very happy to see you, Paulo,” Isco said once he’d calmed down enough. “You two, together. It just. It seems right. It doesn’t seem right to see Alvaro without you. Or you without Alvaro.”

“Thanks,” Paulo smiled. It didn’t feel right to not have Alvaro by his side, either. But just the thought of Alvaro, just the image of Alvaro in Paulo’s mind when he closed his eyes, like it was imprinted on the back of his eyelids – it was enough to get Paulo through, day by day, hour by hour. “And thanks for, you know, telling him that we should talk. He told me about that, and I guess…I guess if he hadn’t called, then we’d still be left hanging. Both of us. So…yeah. Thanks, Isco. It means a lot.”

Isco suddenly reached over and gave Paulo a hug instead of replying him, and it felt different because almost everyone Paulo knew was like, a head taller than him but Isco was the same height as him and it was a nice, friendly hug.

Well, that was before Alvaro suddenly barged in and nudged them apart, draping his arms over both their shoulders.

“Getting a little cozy here, aren’t we?”

Paulo laughed. “Fuck you. Jealous fuck.”

“Don’t be jealous, c’mon, gimme a kiss,” Isco said, leaning in and puckering his lips at Alvaro.

“Fuck off, Francisco,” Alvaro removed his arm and swatted Isco away, but Paulo leaned in to do the same as Isco was doing and Alvaro just. Just looked so helpless. “Fuck you, is this some dwarf conspiracy?”

“Rude,” Isco said again, before walking ahead of them, presumably to give them some private time. “I’m taking my own car so I don’t have to see you two fucking making out.”

Paulo hopped into the driver’s seat before Alvaro could protest. He made Alvaro key the training ground into the GPS, and he started driving.

It was comfortably silent until there was a rut in traffic and Paulo turned to see Alvaro just staring at him, his pupils so dilated the brown was missing, and this look of thorough affection on his face.

“What?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro said nothing, just leaned over and planted his lips gently on Paulo’s, working them open. They were soft and moist on Paulo’s, and they tasted like home, they tasted like the feeling Paulo had spent the last month craving.

A sudden loud blast of a car horn jerked them apart, panting heavily from the short but intense kiss. Paulo saw that the traffic light had turned green and there was a huge space in front of them, and he looked in the rearview mirror and saw that Isco had stopped behind them and was making an absurd kissy face at them.

“It’s Isco,” Paulo said when Alvaro strained to see who it was.

“Why is he stalking us? Didn’t he leave before us?” Alvaro asked. “What a weirdo.”

“It’s free gay porn,” Paulo pointed out as he hit the accelerator again.

“Gross,” Alvaro smacked him on the shoulder. “Fuck, Isco – us, him watching – fuck. I never thought you’d be able to turn me _off,_ but you’ve proven me wrong.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo said, shoving Alvaro aside. Alvaro caught his hand and held on to it, laughing softly to himself.

Paulo drove the rest of the way with one hand because Alvaro didn’t let go of his other. He held it gently, playing with each of Paulo’s fingers, sliding his own fingers into and out of the gaps in between. Softly massaging Paulo’s finger joints. Murmuring about how tender Paulo’s hand was. Kissing the back of Paulo’s hand. Digging at Paulo’s cuticles.

He was reluctant to leave the car when Paulo pulled into the parking lot. He sat in place and gazed sadly at Paulo like if he did it well enough, he wouldn’t have to go for training and he could go home and cuddle with Paulo.

But it didn’t work that way, so Paulo promised, “Lots of cuddles after training.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You also promised me a shower blowjob a million years ago.”

“You’ll get that too.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said again, this time looking really eager. “Okay, I’m going now. Drive this back, I’ll get Isco to drive me later.”

“I love you,” Paulo said as Alvaro keyed his address into the GPS so Paulo would know how to get home. “You’re going to do so great, Alvaro, you are, and I love you and I’ll see you at home.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro leaned over and pressed a final kiss on Paulo’s lips. “I love you so much.”

“You sure it’s okay for Isco to drive you? Do you want me to come pick you up?”

Alvaro shook his head. “You know, you were right when you said it’d be good to get an apartment near Isco’s.”

Paulo beamed. “Of course.”

“Bye, Pau. I love you. Drive safe.”

And then Alvaro got out of the car but refused to budge until Paulo started driving, but even then he stopped Paulo to check if the GPS was working, and _God,_ Alvaro was so overprotective but Paulo fucking loved him. Through the rearview, he saw Alvaro finally start to walk into the complex once Paulo had driven a safe distance away.

Paulo spent the entire journey home smiling to himself, thinking that even if he gave up his life to come to Madrid and be Alvaro’s trophy boyfriend, trophy _husband_ – he wouldn’t mind even a tiny bit.

\------

Paulo was already in bed by the time Alvaro got home.

He’d posted a photo on Instagram, the photograph from earlier of him and Alvaro on the pitch holding the ball put side by side with that photo of the both of them on the last day of the training camp in 2009. He’d captioned it, _Who would have thought we’d come so far? Words cannot even begin to describe how proud and happy I am._ Alvaro had liked it once his training had ended and he was home about a half hour later, while Paulo was in the midst of scrolling through the comments.

“Go take a shower,” Paulo said as Alvaro simply stripped off his sweater and hopped into bed.

“I showered there. Isco wouldn’t let me get into his car if I wasn’t clean. It’s so weird. He wasn’t like this before.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Well, if you don’t shower I can’t give you the shower blowjob you can’t shut up about.”

And Alvaro was up in a flash and he ripped off all his remaining clothes like he was the Hulk and marched right into the bathroom, screaming at Paulo to hurry up.

So that was how Paulo finally paid off what he owed Alvaro, despite it having only arisen because of an offhanded comment by Alvaro and a promise from Paulo just to make him happy. But he got his own shower blowjob from Alvaro as a reunion present, so. No one was complaining.

They rolled into bed again afterwards, slightly more exhausted. Alvaro posted his own Instagram photo, one of them kissing on the pitch as the happy crowd watched on. _My happy place_ , was its simple caption. Paulo got the first like and he was childishly proud of it, earning himself a judgemental glance from Alvaro.

“What d’you wanna do now?” Paulo asked once they’d put their phones aside and settled in comfortably, lying down facing each other.

“Nothing,” Alvaro said softly. “Just lie down here with you and stare at you forever.”

Paulo smiled. He gave Alvaro’s chin a little squeeze. “We could do that.”

Alvaro removed Paulo’s hand from his chin and held on to it tightly. He gave the back of it a soft peck. “Thanks for coming over here.”

“Of course,” Paulo whispered. “It was fun. I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.”

“We’re going to make it, yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Paulo said. He hadn’t even the slightest sliver of doubt in his mind that he and Alvaro were going to be forever. “Definitely.”

“I love you, Paulo.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m not afraid of anything anymore,” Alvaro said softly. “Nothing at all. I just. I just wanted you to know. You make me so strong and nothing is impossible, nothing, because you’re right here by my side and you give me all the strength I’ll ever need.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo whispered. He placed his free hand on Alvaro’s cheek. “This is my dream come true. You know that, yeah? This…you. You are my dream come true.”

Alvaro smiled. He closed the gap between their faces and pressed his lips gently on Paulo’s, the familiar feeling _still_ sending shivers up Paulo’s spine. Paulo slid his hand into Alvaro’s hair, still a little damp from the shower earlier. He let Alvaro pull him closer, so close they were practically stuck together from head to toe, one of Paulo’s thighs shoved between Alvaro’s again.

And even though it was their last night together – their _only_ night together – it didn’t feel so bad. It didn’t feel like a goodbye anymore. Because Paulo knew they would continue to have many, many more nights like this, pressed as close together as they could physically get, for eternity.

“I love you,” Paulo whispered when they pulled apart from the kiss, heads pressed together.

“I love you, Paulo.”

“You know that photo I posted on Instagram?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about it? Like, how we met, how we weren’t supposed to meet, you were supposed to get another random Argentine dude, but we met _anyway_ , and. And where we are today? It’s just. I don’t know. Have you ever thought about it, all the way from the very start to right now? Like, those two photos, side by side, like a before and after, 2009 and 2016.”

“And everything in between?”

“And everything in between.”

“No,” Alvaro whispered. “I don’t dare to. I’m afraid that halfway through, I’ll wake up, and I’ll realise that the entire thing was just a dream.”

Paulo smiled. “Me, too.”

“Let’s think about it right now.”

“Together?”

“Together. ‘Cause then we can convince each other it wasn’t a dream.”

“Maybe we’re both dreaming the same dream,” Paulo said.

“I’ll be fine with that. I’m fine anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

They found themselves comfortable positions, still all wound up in each other, and started. Right from the very first day, the 21st of June 2009. And they spent the entire night just talking, just talking and talking, occasionally trading soft kisses. They didn’t skip past even the most painful parts. Every single detail was discussed to the best of their knowledge.

And by the end of it, they were both finally convinced that the past seven years, one month, and twenty-five days – every bit of it was real, every tiny moment of it was just as real as the existence of Paulo and Alvaro themselves.

And Paulo also realised something else.

Even though all this time had been mostly spent in a state of mental fluctuation, in an almost constant state of delirium and desperation intertwined with the occasional good day – Paulo had only ever needed to look right beside him, where Alvaro was. Where Alvaro had always been, and where Alvaro would always be.

He only needed to look right beside him to realise – he wouldn’t have traded even one second of those seven years, from the 21st June 2009 to the 15th August 2016, for anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember you can always find me on [tumblr](https://incredybala.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/debushy)! <3


	47. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this is it, finally. Thank you all so so so so so much again for sticking with me to the very end. I will miss hearing from you and I will miss these two idiots, but for now I have posted the [Isco/Franco right here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9552431/chapters/21598082) and I hope you will enjoy it too! Thank you so much, I truly don't know what I would have done without all of your constant support. You can still drop me comments though, I will be reading and replying them :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this very last chapter and if you'd like, you could click on to the next one which consists of the little character summary/trivia I put together (which is too long to fit into the end notes, sorry!). 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

During the Christmas break of 2016, Paulo flew back to Argentina to be with his family.

He was a little anxious, actually, because after all it was his first time back in Laguna Larga after telling the world he was gay. He didn’t know if the people there still thought of him as their hero. If they looked at him the same way they’d always had.

But he was surprised by a reception organised by his brothers, and – and the turnout was _huge._ The entire event room was filled with over a hundred people, and Mariano told Paulo that there were a couple hundred more outside waiting to see him. And the rest were watching at home on TV because they couldn’t hold so many people in such a small space.

And Paulo was just. Just so overwhelmed. All he’d expected was to have a quiet Christmas celebration with his family but instead he got his entire Laguna Larga fanbase watching him and telling him he was a hero. All this, despite Paulo having thought that he’d disappointed them.

Paulo wasn’t upset or anything, just so fucking surprised. He managed to sit through the short presentation of all his achievements to date, including his and Alvaro’s involvement in the LGBT+ movement, followed by a meet and greet session. His cheeks started hurting about halfway through from smiling too much, but. But Paulo didn’t complain. He _couldn’t_ complain. To receive this massive support from his hometown was something Paulo had never expected. Something he had never dared to think about.

He wished Alvaro was there to see all of it.

But it wasn’t Alvaro’s fault he was stuck somewhere else – Alvaro’s winter break started later than Paulo’s because he had to play the Club World Cup in Japan. Alvaro had said he would try to get to Córdoba as quickly as he could, didn’t matter how hard he had to beg Zidane to let him leave from Japan separately from the others – but it was two days after the final and Paulo still found himself hoping to see Alvaro every time he turned around. He still found his body aching for Alvaro’s.

But on the morning of Christmas Eve, Paulo woke up to a familiar weight pressed against his back. A familiar scent enveloping him. A familiar pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Alvi?” he whispered without opening his eyes.

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro murmured, and Paulo felt the vibrations on the back of his neck.

“You’re here,” Paulo said, and then promptly burst into tears. “Am I dreaming?”

“No,” Alvaro whispered, lifting his head to rest his cheek on Paulo’s. Paulo felt the little compression as Alvaro smiled. “Did you think I would miss our very first anniversary?”

And Paulo started all-out _bawling_ , and Alvaro seemed so shocked and confused and amused at the same time, and he grabbed Paulo and turned him around so he could kiss him. “Hey. Hey, don’t cry.”

“It’s been a year,” Paulo sobbed.

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He rubbed his thumbs along Paulo’s cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you, Alvi.”

“I missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” Paulo said. “How’ve you been? You didn’t reply any of my texts.”

Alvaro launched into the entire story of how he’d convinced Zidane to let him take his own flight, but because of the holiday season he couldn’t get one directly to Bueno Aires so he had to go the long way and transfer flights in like, three different US airports before he finally managed to fly to Buenos Aires and from there, drive to Córdoba.

“You didn’t have to come,” Paulo said after Alvaro had stopped talking.

“I wanted to,” Alvaro swept Paulo’s hair back on his head. “I wanted to meet the rest of your family.”

Paulo smiled. “They’ll love you to bits.”

“So how was your surprise reception?”

Paulo froze. He didn’t remember telling Alvaro about that, even over text. When he focused on Alvaro again he saw that a cheeky smile had formed on his face.

“You knew about that?” Paulo squeaked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said proudly.

“So you were in cahoots with everyone else?”

Alvaro burst into laughter. “Say cahoots again.”

“No!” Paulo smacked him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me? I was so fucking surprised.”

“That was the point. Now say cahoots again. It sounds cute when you say it.”

“Cahoots.”

Alvaro grinned. “Good boy.”

“Alvi, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted you to see it for yourself,” Alvaro said softly. “I know you couldn’t just come home anytime you wanted and you didn’t know if they’d accept you like Turin and Madrid did. I know you came here feeling that way. And I just wanted you to see it for yourself. We made it, Paulo. We made it. We made it all the way back to Argentina. You’ll always have a home here.”

And Paulo just. He didn’t know what to say. So he just leaned forward and kissed Alvaro softly. He didn’t know what he would ever do without Alvaro. He didn’t like thinking about it.

“So how was it?” Alvaro asked after they pulled apart, breathless.

And Paulo told Alvaro everything, from how many people turned up to how they all reacted upon seeing him and everything that he’d done. He showed Alvaro group photos they’d taken and the final group photo of him, his brothers, and everyone who’d turned up. He showed Alvaro official photos of the meet and greet.

“Wish I’d been here,” Alvaro said as he finished scrolling through all the photos.

“You were busy being a world champion,” Paulo smiled. “You did it.”

“Speaking of that,” Alvaro said, reaching over to his bag on the ground and pulling out – his Club World Cup medal. “I got something for you.”

Paulo took the medal when Alvaro handed it to him. He ran his fingertips over the grooves on its surface. Maybe one day, he’d get one of these for himself.

“I’m so proud of you, Alvi.”

“Thank you, Pau, you know. Nothing would’ve been possible without you. None of this.”

“Don’t be silly. I didn’t do anything.”

“You did, too,” Alvaro said earnestly, leaning over and pecking Paulo’s cheek again. “This is yours, too. Everything that’s mine is yours, too.”

Paulo smiled. “If you say so.”

“I say so.”

Paulo poked Alvaro on the nose and laughed as Alvaro scrunched it up in a ball. “Photo time,” he said, grabbing his phone from the bedside table.

They took another aerial photo of them lying in bed, Paulo biting Alvaro’s medal and Alvaro biting Paulo’s ear, and posted it on Paulo’s Instagram story.

“Aren’t you going to take one?” Paulo asked.

“I already took one,” Alvaro said, and then started laughing. He guided Paulo’s finger to the circle on top of his feed with Alvaro’s name and tapped on it.

_“I’m going to surprise Paulo,” Alvaro was saying in Spanish, in a hushed voice. He was walking down the hallway of Paulo’s house and to his bedroom. A ‘Córdoba’ geotag was across the bottom of the screen._

_He pushed open the door and there Paulo was – fast asleep with his mouth hanging open, tucked warmly under the sheets, his bare shoulder and arm peeking out of it. Alvaro started to laugh and the video started to become blurry, and when it refocused Alvaro was right beside Paulo, pushing his jaw to close his mouth._

_“He lied to all of you about his age,” he stated. “Paulo is actually two years old.”_

And then the video ended and the next one started.

_Alvaro was lying down behind Paulo – still in the same position but now with his mouth closed. He leaned over and planted a few loud smooches all over Paulo’s face, but Paulo didn’t wake up or react except to swat lazily at Alvaro like he was an annoying mosquito._

_The next one was a photograph of them, Alvaro with his face pressed into the sheets against Paulo’s back and a slight smile on his face. He’d put dream bubble emojis for the both of them, and within Paulo’s was the pig emoji. Within Alvaro’s was the heart-eyed emoji. ‘Te amo con todo mi corazón’ was the text across the bottom of the screen._

“I slept through all of that?” Paulo asked, tapping to view the story all over again.

“You’re a pig,” Alvaro reached over and jabbed at the bottom of Paulo’s nose, pushing it upwards.

“What shall we do today?”

“I’m taking you somewhere,” Alvaro said, sitting up and dragging Paulo upright. “C’mon, shower.”

“ _You’re_ taking me somewhere. You know Córdoba enough to _take me somewhere._ ”

“Just shut up and go shower, you’re dirty and lazy like a pig.”

So Paulo dragged himself to the shower, and when he got back outside Alvaro was just. Just standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, and reading a book. Or _pretending_ to read a book, because it was _upside down._

Paulo just. Just stared at him like, _what the fuck are you doing?_ – before he glanced upwards and saw a branch of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

“Fuck you,” he called. “Do you need to go to such extra lengths to kiss me?”

And Alvaro looked a little hurt, so Paulo went over and wrapped him in a hug and kissed him on the lips. “You’re so extra and I love you so much,” he whispered.

Alvaro’s lips were upturned when he kissed Paulo back. And again. And again. Paulo thought maybe they ended up wasting twenty minutes under that doorway just lazily making out.

When they finally got to the car, Alvaro keyed some top secret location into the GPS and started driving. He refused to tell Paulo where they were going but they eventually ended up at a nice restaurant and.

And Alvaro’s family was sitting outside, along with Paulo’s mom and his brothers and their families, along a huge table with two seats saved at the end for Paulo and Alvaro.

“What the fuck,” Paulo said, in complete awe as they pulled up across the street and everyone started waving at them. “This isn’t real. You brought all of them? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“’Cause everyone _lurrrrves_ you and wants to see you.”

“This is way too many surprises for _one_ trip home.”

“You like surprises, don’t you?” Alvaro asked. “You’re a sappy piece of shit.”

Paulo shoved Alvaro aside as Alvaro started laughing again, probably taking amusement from Paulo’s dramatic reactions. They got out of the car, shoving each other and laughing as they crossed the road and took their seats after hugging everyone one by one and Paulo apologising about how Alvaro’s family had to go through that horrible-sounding journey through the USA in order to get to Córdoba.

And then they sat down to the most wonderful Christmas meal Paulo had ever remembered having, sitting there hiding in the shade from the warm summer Argentine sun, chatting and laughing and making fun of each other. Paulo’s and Alvaro’s families, merged into one huge extended family by their own will.

“Hey,” Alvaro suddenly said, grabbing Paulo’s hand under the table. “Remember the last time I brought my family to Córdoba, remember what we did?”

Paulo felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Of course he remembered. It was both their first times. In his old room, in the Instituto hostel. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Wanna do it again tonight?”

“We’ll have to sneak into the hostel.”

“We’re sneaky and kinky, remember, so I think that’ll work for us.”

Paulo smiled. He stuffed a piece of chicken into Alvaro’s mouth, and that started them off so they spent the rest of the meal feeding each other. Marta made a remark about how gross they were, and everybody agreed.

And well, Paulo agreed, too. It was just. Just that Alvaro was the only person he would ever want to be gross with. Alvaro was just as gross at him. They fit together so well. They would, forever.

\------

The hostel had undergone some renovations since the last time Paulo was there, but thankfully that little flap in the back fence which he and a few other players used to sneak in through when they passed curfew was still there. Alvaro crawled in behind Paulo, muttering away about how Paulo looked way more innocent than he actually was.

But instead of going to Paulo’s old room – which Paulo wasn’t even sure was still there, after all the renovations done to the hostel buildings – they went and sat in the middle of the training pitch.

The floodlights were all turned off, and only one or two rooms in the hostel had their lights turned on. Everyone else was back for the holidays. It was almost pitch dark from where they were sitting.

When Paulo looked up at the sky, he could see many stars glittering above them in a silver blanket.

He nudged Alvaro, who was busy examining the dark pitch surrounding them, and made him look up. The curious look on his face quickly morphed into one of awe. He lay down on his back on the grass, tugging at Paulo so he’d lie down, too.

Paulo tucked his head under Alvaro’s chin as they observed the twinkling night sky, relishing in the feeling of Alvaro’s stubble tickling his forehead. “Alvaro,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Thank _you,_ Paulo. I love you so fucking much.”

Paulo smiled. “I can’t wait to spend eternity with you.”

“Can you believe it’s been a year?”

“Yeah, no, not really,” Paulo confessed. One year. One entire year, three hundred and sixty-six days, since Alvaro had come to his door and said ‘I love you’ for the very first time.

“Me neither,” Alvaro said softly. He gave Paulo’s shoulder a squeeze before tilting Paulo’s head up so he could kiss Paulo on the lips. “Happy anniversary, Paulo Bruno Dybala.”

“Happy anniversary,” Paulo closed his eyes but opened them a moment later because the sky was simply so magical. “The first of many, many more.”

They distracted themselves with their phones for a couple of minutes, finding the same photo they had of the both of them – one that Marta had taken earlier, from directly across the table. Paulo was in mid-laughter about something Alvaro had said and Alvaro was just. Just smiling softly and looking at Paulo fondly. And holding his fork with a piece of chicken stuck to it because he was in the midst of feeding Paulo. Marta had sent it to the both of them with the simple caption, _When’s the wedding? Can I be either of your best man?_

They posted it to their Instagram accounts at the same time, both typing the same caption.

_1/_ _∞_


	48. Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the trivia I promised you :) It actually isn’t a trivia more than it’s just me trying to explain everything and put everything together in a nice summary. Just a disclaimer that this got wayyyy longer than I’d intended it to be, so if you read it to the end, thank you so so much. I’m not trying to praise my own fic through this thing, I just want to share with you what I’ve thought about over all these months of writing and the messages/lessons that I have interpreted from their characters. I hope that I have succeeded in passing these thoughts to you, but of course I know that the messages/lessons that you guys have may be different from mine. There is no ‘right’ way to interpret here, we are all free to read this in whatever way we want :) But I would love to hear what you think, too, nonetheless! I’ve basically gotten much more invested in this fic than I needed to, and this is just an outlet of release. I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> Please take note that their sexualities are very much fluid, after all everyone has the right to choose not to label themselves or change who they are depending on what they’ve learnt about themselves, even if they are fictional characters. This is just, again, what I had intended them to be. So this is not fixed, especially Isco’s and Franco’s since I’ll be writing about them. But since this fic is so centered on sexuality and discovering oneself, I thought maybe it’d be nice to give this kind of conclusion to each of them. You are very welcome to disagree with me about anything at all, or give your own suggestions, just drop me a comment or message or tweet and I would be really happy to discuss with you!

Paulo and Alvaro are both biromantic bisexuals.

 **Paulo**  
Paulo is a very strong character without being outwardly so – he cries and breaks down and thinks of giving up. He’s scared most of the time. That’s understandable because he feels like he’s fucked up too many times. But the thing is, he doesn’t let any of this affect him in the long run. And like Alvaro mentioned before, being a man (or woman, I mean being strong in general) doesn’t mean putting on a strong or expressionless face all the time. It’s about accepting that we’re scared and doing the necessary things to make sure we overcome it. Finding the reasons we should overcome it. Being strong is about not being afraid to be weak. This searching, this willingness to do something about it, the bravery to face it head-on, is truly what makes someone strong.

I also wanted to show that just because someone likes to drink and have sex, just because they immerse themselves in all the so-called ‘vices,’ doesn’t make them a bad person. Just because someone has made many, many mistakes, doesn’t mean that they’re inherently evil. Everyone fights their own battles. Different people have different ways of escaping, of dealing with it, and as long as they don’t overdo it or like, kill someone or something, we shouldn’t have the right to judge them for it. Of course, like Paulo, some people may not have the guts to speak out about their troubles; that’s when friends like Franco matter the most.

Of course, one of the central arcs of this story is Paulo’s relationship with his dad. I believe/hope that I’ve resolved it: Alvaro’s dad has accepted him, and Paulo knows that he will never find someone exactly like his dad but nonetheless, it means the world to him that Alvaro’s dad is willing to somewhat take that role. This arc is also what I believe makes Paulo think the way he does – his honesty and maturity – because he believes that everyone should hear the truth and everyone should see the true Paulo before the day they are unable to anymore, and the loss of his dad caused him to grow up much more quickly than he otherwise would. Paulo shows us that yes, we may spend our entire lives searching for something and never finding it. But we have to make do with what we have, what we are given. We have to look around and see that the world truly is beautiful for the wonderful people that we meet along the way, and sometimes what seems so important that it’s nearly life-and-death – it eventually fades into the background once you find other people to build a new family you can rely on.

 **Alvaro  
** Just because someone’s battles are not obvious to us doesn’t mean they aren’t fighting them. I know Alvaro was portrayed as sort of an asshole, I tried to write it subtly so it crept up on you but you don’t realise it until he does something that’s so Ultimately Assholeish. I hope I’ve succeeded. Admittedly, I intended Alvaro to sort of be the antagonist from the start, but over the story I developed a soft spot for Alvaro because the problem of internalised homophobia is more and more apparent nowadays, and it’s not Alvaro’s fault that he’s fighting with it. But overall, I wanted to say that sometimes just because someone appears to be irrational or a jerk doesn’t mean they’re doing it intentionally. People see the world differently. They’re scared of different things. Alvaro happened to be scared of something that Paulo wasn’t scared of. It doesn’t make him the bad guy. It doesn’t make them incompatible. In fact, I think it is exactly this that makes them both fit together so well. But sometimes, if we’re lucky, these ‘asshole’ people are willing to listen and consider other points of view, like how Alvaro did.

On a related note, Alvaro’s main arc is trying to accept himself. Alvaro is more of a typical “outwardly strong” character: he’s strong, independent, he thinks he’s in control and that he knows what he wants. But that isn’t necessarily true. In fact, the people around Alvaro seem to know him better than he knows himself. Even _Franco_ knows him better than he knows himself. Sometimes we need to appreciate that. We need to understand that someone looking at us from the outside may actually know more about us than we do ourselves. Alvaro has repressed many, many things, but ultimately, he has a very, very supportive surrounding and I guess that’s the most important part of his journey of finding himself. Because once all of their opinions converge on Alvaro, he finally realises who he truly is and that he can’t run away from it.

Since I’ll be writing about Isco and Franco, I’ll just talk briefly about them here. The things I say about them are “as things stand,” meaning they might or might not change over the next story.

 **Isco  
** Isco is a heteroromantic bisexual (for now).

I guess Isco in this story was just like, he’s there without being obvious. Sometimes we forget he exists but he turns up and plays an important role and he always knows what’s going on and tries to help, and he’s always smiling and trying to make everyone happy. He forms strong personal opinions about things but doesn’t let it affect other people’s lives and most importantly, doesn’t force anyone else to think in the same way as him. He’s really quite an underrated character to me. And unfortunately, he’s what most people in our lives are. We lose track and lose contact but when shit goes down, you know these friends will always have your back. Sure, Isco is kinda an asshole, but I like him because he shows that just because someone’s outspoken or seems like a big ass, doesn’t mean they aren’t really kind underneath. Maybe they’re repressing feelings. Maybe it’s the way they interact with people, the way they (an extrovert in Isco’s case) catch people’s attention and get along with so many people by being funny. Isco is really happy-go-lucky and he moulds a few seemingly incompatible character traits so nicely together and I hope to show you more of that!

 **Franco**  
Franco is an aromantic homosexual (for now).

Ah, Franco. Everyone’s favourite hero. I really, really like Franco, he’s my favourite to write about because he’s just so explosive, his character is strong not only because he’s so outwardly defensive but also in a quiet way. He’s always lingering there in the background, and he tries to stay out of things but steps in when the people closest to him are being mistreated. He has a strong sense of right and wrong and no one can stop him when he’s out for justice (looking at you, Alvaro). He’s neither loud nor friendly like Isco is, and he doesn’t mind his own business as well as Isco does, but he deals with people in his own striking way. Sure, he’s full of sarcastic comments, and that’s where he and Isco are most alike. But that’s just all. Franco seems to be repressing some things too, especially because he’s such a huge, huge, _huge_ softie, so much that his exterior is almost too strong to believe. Of course, being the oldest of the four, trying to show changes in Franco’s character might seem a little tough, but I’m accepting the challenge and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I currently am while writing.

\------

There are a few recurring themes over the story, some I’ve put in intentionally and some that popped up along the way and I decided to go along with it. But these are the main ones, there are other tiny ones and random references that, if you decide to read all 45 chapters in one shot, would be apparent to you. But feel free to point them out if you’d like!

**“We okay?” “Always.”**

Probably the most obvious one hahaha. This line was meant to show the fluctuations of Paulo and Alvaro’s relationship, from the start right to the end. It’s meant to show, ironically in both an apparent yet subtle way, what the situation is between the both of them. It’s meant to show you the exact points in the story where yeah, they’re okay, and no, they’re not okay. It’s meant to show you that even though you’re thinking they definitely can’t be okay after _this,_ they surprise you because after all, they’re Paulo and Alvaro. It’s meant to show that despite how afraid they are to say the words ‘I love you’ to each other, there’s this other thing they can say to let each other know exactly how they feel. And of course, eventually, it’s meant to show you that no matter what, they will _always be okay_.

**The strikes**

Paulo and Alvaro’s strike-counting first happens in 2009 when Alvaro tackles Paulo during their final match. Strike two happens when Alvaro does the same thing during Palermo-Juve in 2013. And of course, strike three is the most devastating and as luck would have it, happens when Alvaro does it again during training in 2015 when Paulo is still fuming mad at him.

The other set of strikes are Paulo’s personal set about the people he loved but had to let go: Camila, Isabella, and Alvaro. But we all know now that this set of strikes was resolved in the best way :)

**The dybata shippers**

Franco, Isco, Paul, and Simone – four people with completely different ways of showing support to Paulo and Alvaro. I started writing each of them with the intention to show exactly this: that support can be shown in many different ways.

Franco is the defender. He’s basically all of us, saying we hate them torturing us but yet wanting them to be together. He doesn’t hate the idea of their relationship, in fact he supports it just as much as everyone else; he just hates the idea that Alvaro is playing Paulo. And he wants them to be together but shows it in a completely ridiculous way, by being all asshole-y towards Alvaro. But God, if anyone ever laid a finger on either Alvaro or Paulo, you can be sure Franco will be the first to jump in.

Isco is the encourager. He’s basically the one who whips out his phone to take a video whenever his friend is doing something stupid. He’s more of a pusher than Franco is, and surprisingly, it’s the combination of them both that works so well for Paulo and Alvaro. It’s precisely Isco’s kind encouragement that helps Alvaro figure out what he wants, and it’s just right that he’s close to Alvaro and Franco is closer to Paulo, because Franco’s harsh style definitely wouldn’t have worked with Alvaro.

Paul is the protector. He mistakenly thought they were a couple from day one and even though he didn’t know _anything_ close to the truth, still put all of himself into it to try and protect the both of them, helping them to be less obvious and warning them when other people were picking up on them.

Simone is the teaser. He probably knew from the start, just like Paul did, but decided to take a more friendly way with things. He doesn’t hesitate to tease them and call them weird (because they _are_ ). He’s straightforward when asking about whether they were truly a couple. But until the end, he was very strongly supportive and showed that through being extremely friendly and fun with them.

**Role reversal**

The most prominent of Paulo and Alvaro’s role reversals are in terms of sex. On their first time Alvaro was the more dominant, because he’d been with girls before and basically knew how to use his body better. But then Paulo did all that exploring, and on their second time after Paulo breaks up with Isa it’s the most evident that Alvaro was now the less experienced.

The more gradual case of role-reversal is in terms of mindsets. Paulo is the realist and Alvaro the dreamer – they’ve been like this from the very start. Paulo is more down-to-earth, he knows more about what is possible and what he wants and what can actually happen. Alvaro is the kind of person who lets his thoughts run wild without any intention to stop them. He lets his fears play too big a role in deciding what to do and it makes him irrational. But of course, it also means that he’s easily contented, easily excited.

But I hoped to show that over time, over their one-year relationship (from Chapter 31 to the epilogue), they become more and more alike to each other. Paulo becomes more of a dreamer and Alvaro becomes more of a realist, and eventually, they sort of meet in the middle. Paulo begins to see things like Alvaro did – he begins to be more comfortable posting on social media about their relationship, for one. He starts to allude to Alvaro’s visions of them getting married and buying a dog. He starts to let himself dream, he starts to loosen up following all those years of trying to face his life head-on.

And Alvaro. Alvaro becomes more mature, he becomes more aware of what he needs and what the people around him, especially Paulo, need. He becomes less afraid because he finally knows that this could actually be possible if he took everything into account, including developing mindsets. He decides to take up these responsibilities instead of running away from them. The both of them begin to live in each other’s shoes towards the end, despite keeping most of their initial characteristics: Paulo more silently loving and Alvaro more explosive and loud.

**And finally the title: ‘and everything in between’**

This title, as written about in the final chapter, actually refers to the time in between when Paulo and Alvaro met and at the end, when everything is resolved; all seven and a half years of it. It refers to the entire journey and all its ups and downs.

But it also refers to everything in between Paulo and Alvaro – the gulf in between them, and how it changes in size, how it expands and contracts and eventually, disappears. It refers both to time and to the degree of communication and understanding between them both.

\------

 **~~~TRIVIA TIME~~~**  
(Also, like, Your Fave Is Problematic)

 **Paulo:**  
\- Favourite subject in school was philosophy  
\- Likes watching cat videos in his free time and makes Alvaro join him  
\- Avoids drama: when he sees a fight on the street, he runs away  
\- In a snowstorm, he’d be the one outside trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue until someone (Alvaro) grabs him and takes him somewhere safe  
\- Biggest fear is disappointing his dad  
\- Marshall from How I Met Your Mother  
\- INFP  
\- If he were a season, he’d be autumn  
\- If he were a colour, he’d be [teal](https://usercontent2.hubstatic.com/5876173_f520.jpg)  
\- If he were a song, he’d be [Weight Of Living, Parts 1 and 2 by Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tQUjH_3Rlc)  
\- Spirit animal is angry owl  
\- Favourite emoji heart is blue

 **Alvaro:**  
\- Favourite subject was math  
\- Pretends to enjoy Paulo’s cat videos for a few minutes before he makes Paulo watch videos of dogs falling down stairs  
\- If there’s a fight on the street, Alvaro probably caused it  
\- In a snowstorm, he’d be the navigator  
\- Biggest fear is being lonely  
\- Lukas from Eyewitness  
\- ESFJ  
\- If he were a season, he’d be spring  
\- If he were a colour, he’d be [emerald green](http://www.art-paints.com/Paints/Oil/Dala/Emerald-Green/Emerald-Green.gif)  
\- If he were a song, he’d be [Starboy by The Weeknd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34Na4j8AVgA)  
\- Spirit animal is skittish pet cat  
\- Favourite emoji heart is red

 **Isco:**  
\- Favourite subject was PE  
\- Borrows things and then forgets to return them  
\- Too messy for his own good  
\- Fight on the street, the entire world will know about it because Isco’s got a thirty minute video of it on his phone, with him cheering them on in the background  
\- In a snowstorm, he’s the one screaming in fear in the backseat  
\- His biggest fear is feeling exposed  
\- Phil from Modern Family  
\- ESFP  
\- If he were a season, he’d be summer  
\- If he were a colour, he’d be [dark purple](http://ronmart.smugmug.com/Blog/Reviews/i-LctCd9D/0/M/Rogue-Lighting-Filters-33-M.jpg)  
\- If he were a song, he’d be [the mashup of Midnight City (M83) and All Star (Smash Mouth)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-W3TWYtOcEw)  
\- Spirit animal is hyperactive Pomeranian  
\- Favourite emoji heart is green

 **Franco:**  
\- Favourite subject was art  
\- Finds his things randomly going missing ever since he went to Turin to help Paulo and Alvaro at their press conference  
\- Too obsessed with cleanliness for his own good  
\- If there’s a fight on the street, he’ll observe for like three seconds and figure out who’s the antagonist so he can take them out with one swift punch to the neck  
\- In a snowstorm, he’s the one driving them to safety  
\- His biggest fear is losing control  
\- A mix of Monica from Friends and Luke from Gilmore Girls  
\- ISTJ  
\- If he were a season, he’d be winter  
\- If he were a colour, he’d be [salmon](http://www.solidbackgrounds.com/images/1024x768/1024x768-light-salmon-pink-solid-color-background.jpg)  
\- If he were a song, he’d be [Saturn by Sleeping At Last](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzNvk80XY9s)  
\- Spirit animal is eagle  
\- Scorns at emoji hearts; his emoji of choice to show any sort of friendly affection is the middle finger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s everything I have for you. Thank you again for reading and, if you’ve read all the way up to here, for your patience. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for your support, I always have and I’ll always be reading your comments and trying to reply them, so if there’s anything you want to talk about, just drop me one. This fic may have (finally) ended, but it definitely hasn’t in my mind. Thank you all so much for joining me in this journey, thank you, thank you, thank you, and I’ll see you again soon, [right here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9552431/chapters/21598082)


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